


Out of the Woods

by AlanSchezar



Series: The Zootopia Chronicles [1]
Category: Zootopia
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crime Fighting, Drama, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mystery, Organized Crime, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-07-12 16:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 134,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7113406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlanSchezar/pseuds/AlanSchezar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten months have passed since the day Nicholas Wilde was sworn in as a ZPD Officer. Ten months of working closely with his friend and inspiration, Judy Hopps. Now, a life and death crisis will force them to confront their true feelings for one another. Meanwhile, a specter from Nick's checkered past threatens to plunge Zootopia into blood soaked anarchy, unless Wilde and Hopps have what it takes to stop it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Zwierzogród: Out of the Woods (Polish Translation)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7636819) by [IMMARK45](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IMMARK45/pseuds/IMMARK45)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Formerly posted at Deviantart and FF.net  
> -Watching Zootopia last night, I realized something important - the specific date that the movie takes place. Slight change to the timeline of Out of the woods - it now begins ten months after Nick becomes a police officer, rather than eight. Thanks to an astute reader, I realized it wasn't totally clear that Nick's police training took about 6 months, and then he's been on probation on the job for 10 months. I'll probably leave the summary as-is, because I don't want it to sound awkward lol I may edit it later. Everything else remains the same. :)

They had drifted into comfortable silence, the pattering of the rain and the low rumble of the cruiser's big V8 engine providing more than enough sound track for the night shift. They were five hours into the night's patrol as Judy smoothly rolled the car into one of the many tunnels leading out of the Rainforest district.

It had been ten months since they cracked the Night Howler case and quelled the residual unrest that followed for weeks after. In many ways, those turbulent days were more tense and dangerous than even the case itself, but they had been the baptism of fire that forged Judy and Nick's partnership into a well oiled crime fighting machine.

The lights of the tunnel whizzing past had a hypnotic effect, apparently, because Nick reached for his empty coffee cup for the second time in the past two hours, and once again curled his lip in annoyance at finding it was still dry.

Judy glanced at him as he did it; she couldn't help it. The slight wrinkle of his muzzle, the flash of his canine, the whole roguish expression sent a thrill through her. She could feel a flush rising in her cheeks. As usual, when she started to get carried away, she started talking to cover it.

"Boy, it's sure been quiet the past couple weeks, huh? Feels like these night shifts are taking forever..." she began, hoping he didn't hear the squeak in her voice.

Nick's eyelids drooped and he slouched in his seat.

"Yeah...I thought I'd have a lot of trouble with graveyards, but you look sleepier than I feel..."

He breathed a deep, soft sigh and his eyelids dropped shut. He tipped over in his seat and his forehead hit the window with a dull thunk. She could tell he startled awake from the ruffle of fur on the back of his neck and the twitch in his shoulders. Why was she paying so much attention to things like that? She kept blabbing just to be safe.

"Yeah, I guess I just get so excited! Thinking about all the crooks we could nab...well, hasn't been so much as a convenience store robbery the past while but you know...it could happen at any moment!"

Just then the car burst out of the tunnel into the brilliance of the shimmering night. The artificial rain of the jungle district was gone and the cloudless night sky blazed with millions of stars. The light of the full moon flooded the road ahead. Out of the corner of her eye, Judy noticed Nick's weight shift and his forehead roll on the window; he was looking up at the sky.

"Hey, Carrots..." he said quietly.

Not hearing him, Judy kept rambling on.

"Carrots!" he said somewhat sharply, turning to face her. She looked at him wide eyed. Instantly his expression softened into a charming smile, "Do me a favour and hit the drive through...I'm dying for a coffee here. There's one up ahead on the right. Oh, and after that, take Ridgeway drive to Fangston Road...it's time we took a break."

Judy nodded, "Sure, Nick."

After the brief trip through the pickup window, they were winding their way up Fangston toward the heights that looked out over the western plains.

"Pull over up here on the left. There's a great viewpoint," Nick said, indicating with his free paw as he raised his cup to his lips.

They rolled up and stopped the cruiser, its low droning cutting out as Judy turned the key. They stepped out and strolled to the railing at the edge of the cliff. Just in front of it was a wide bench, which Nick languidly flopped onto, slinging his elbows over the back and taking a long sip of his coffee.

Judy was a step behind, having slowed her pace as the magnificent moon-bathed vista spread itself out before her. It was as if the world was blanketed in silence and silver glory, the little pools and rivers that dotted the plain shimmering like so many distant diamonds. Her breath caught in her throat and she raised her paw to her mouth.

A few quiet moments passed before she felt Nick stride up beside her, one hand characteristically thrust into his pocket, he other clutching his beloved coffee. "Somethin' else, huh Carrots?" he said, his voice hushed.

She stepped to the railing, jumping up and standing on the second rung, leaning over and gazing out over the shimmering plain, "The valley...I never knew it could be so beautiful..."

"It's not the valley I wanted to show you. There's a Moondog tonight."

She half turned to him and shot him a quizzical look. He answered with a smile and pointed upward before taking another swig of coffee. She followed his gesture and raised her eyes; the moon shone more fervently than she had ever seen, its face streaked with wisps of vapor, and it was surrounded by a huge ring of brilliance such that the moon itself almost seemed to be the glowing pupil of an enormous staring eye.

"Oh... _oh wow!_ " was all she could manage to say.

Nick stared up at it too, "My mom...she...well, foxes can be pretty superstitious, I guess…some of us believe in something my mom called 'The Old Ways'-destiny, signs and omens, that kind of thing. She didn't really know much about it, but her grandmother used to tell her things. She used to say that the Moondog is a serious omen...seeing it means something big is about to happen..."

"Something bad...?" Judy asked, glancing at him with a furrowed brow.

Nick just shrugged, "Not always...maybe something great. Just something...big. Then again, it's just an old superstition..."

A smile crept over Judy's lips as she stared up at the moon and its broad halo glowing above them. She felt a warm breeze waft through her fur and she let her eyes slip closed as it caressed her face. Gripping the railing a bit tighter, she leaned back, letting the night wind roll over her.

Suddenly she felt Nick's paw come to rest beside hers. The faintest touch, his paw just clasping the rail and pressing up against hers; it could have been unintentional, or it could have been something else. She opened her eyes and glanced at him. What was the meaning behind that enigmatic smile? At times he could be startlingly earnest, and other times guarded and impossible to read. She kept watching.

His gaze dropped for a moment, his smile deepening. She saw him taking a deep breath, as if he was preparing to say something; she was starting to think his touch and his smile were 'something else.' She waited breathlessly to hear what he might say.

"You know, Carrots, I've been thinking...it's been tough to make it happen, between the fallout from the Night Howler case, overtime and training and all, but I'd really love to spend some time with you…"

Judy perked a brow and regarded Nick incredulously. "What are you talking about? We hang out all the time," she said, rocking back and forth gently as she stood on the railing, her eyes turning to the moon again, "Plus, you know, I see you all day every day at work."

"Yeah...," Nick said, "We hang out, but that's not what I mean..."

She glanced at him, her eyes widening a little as her ears perked up and turned instinctively toward him.

His paw slipped over hers, giving a gentle squeeze, "I've been thinking for a long time that I'd really like to get closer...so how about you let me wine and dine you tomorrow night, and maybe afterward we dance the night away?"

Judy's brows perked for a second, then a smile crept its way across her muzzle, her nose twitching faintly, "Asking out your field coach, probie? You could get yourself in hot water for that kind of thing..."

"I'm willing to take the risk," he said, flashing his roguish smile, "We can just keep it on the down low at work if you want, at least till I'm done probation in three months."

"I don't want to put your career at risk, Nick...I'd feel awful if you got fired because of me..." she said, looking down at his paw still resting atop hers. She felt like her cheeks and the inside of her ears were burning up; she dropped her ears behind her back in hopes he wouldn't see her blushing.

"You're pretty new to this, huh? Here, let me help you; it goes like this," he said, adopting a demure posture and batting his eyelashes at her. "Oh Nick! I would _love_ to go on a date with a handsome, charming, intelligent, chivalrous fox like you," he said in his best impression of her voice.

Judy chuckled and rolled her eyes at him, "Geeze, you lay it on thick..."

"That's not a refusal," he retorted with a confident smirk.

_Bravo six, this is dispatch, do you copy?_

The radio crackled to life, shattering their illusion of solitude. Nick looked momentarily crestfallen; Judy felt a pang of affection that made her want to hug him immediately. He recovered almost instantly however.

"Duty calls, eh Carrots? No rest for the wicked..." Nick said with a half-hearted smile before keying his shoulder mic, "Dispatch, this is Wilde, go ahead."

Dispatch; we have a silent alarm at Canopy Way and Jibuti Street, Rainforest district. Property has a history of false alarms, but we need a unit to check it out and everyone else is tied up; you available?"

" _No, I'm busy putting the moves on my field coach, your stupid alarm can wait..._ " Nick grumbled under his breath before pressing the radio switch again, "Ten-four, dispatch, we're five mikes out, rolling code two." Judy chuckled and hopped off the railing, dashing to the car.

They jumped in together and Nick pressed the switch for the lightbar, keeping the siren off. They peeled out and tore back down the road they came from. Bursting from the tunnel into a heavy downpour, Judy barely slowed as she hit the wipers on full and carved her way around a turn. Within less than five minutes they rolled up on the source of the alarm, a large pharmaceutical laboratory near the edge of the district. They killed the lights and rolled slowly into the front parking lot.

The building looked deserted: no vehicles in the lot, no lights in the windows, no obvious signs of forced entry. Nick threw on his patrol jacket and forage cap, stepping out of the vehicle. Judy followed suit, the two of them approaching the front doors cautiously.

"Dispatch, this is Bravo-Six, we're ten-twenty three. No sign of trouble yet," Judy said, tugging the front door and finding it secure, "Checking perimeter, stand by."

_Dispatch, ten-four_

Nick looked at her and held up his index finger, making a little swirling motion. She nodded and they split up, walking slowly and cautiously around the outside of the building, checking each window and door for any sign of tampering.

Suddenly, Nick's voice over the radio cut through the steady pattering of the rain. "Hopps from Wilde, match my twenty, back door."

Judy dashed around the corner to find Nick standing at the rear service door, flashlight in paw. Their eyes met and he motioned her over. She stopped beside him, seeing nothing amiss. "What?" she asked somewhat peevishly, "I don't see anything wrong."

Nick nodded, "Right. No sign of forced entry, buuut..." He turned the knob and pushed the door. It swung wide open.

Judy's ears perked straight up, her nose twitching pensively as she peered into the darkness. "Good catch, Nick..." she said softly, moving closer to peer inside. "We should call backup, just in case," she added, glancing back at him.

Nick shrugged, "According to dispatch, everyone else is tied up. Plus, they said this place is always getting false alarms. We'll look like a couple of clowns if we call in more units and it's a matter of some science nerd forgetting to lock up...I mean look at this place, Carrots, it's deserted."

Judy frowned, tapping her foot rapidly a few times. "All right," she said at length, "We check it out quietly, and if it turns out to be something bigger, we fall back and call for more units."

"You're the boss!" Nick said with a pleased smile. He stepped forward, drawing his pistol. "I'll take point..." he said, not waiting to hear her protest.

Judy sighed, drawing her pistol and keying her mic with her free paw, "Bravo-Six, we found an insecure door in back, but no signs of forced entry. We're gonna check it out."

_Ten four, Bravo-Six, just be careful, no units available to respond if things heat up._

"Bravo-Six, ten four," Judy replied, then slipped into the shadows inside the building.

They found themselves in a back access corridor of the warehouse area of the lab building. The left side of the corridor was lined with wire reinforced industrial glass overlooking the large loading bay, the right had a few nondescript doors, all of which proved to be locked. Creeping along either side of the hall, they slowly moved deeper inside. Before long, the corridor opened into a small office area with various interconnected cubicles; nothing seemed to be disturbed or out of place.

Suddenly, Judy's ears snapped to her right; there was a sound coming from deeper in the building. She motioned to Nick and they silently crept to the far wall, peering through a doorway that opened into the laboratory area itself. It was huge room filled with rows of heavy steel-topped workbenches with built in cabinets, their tops covered with every manner of chemistry equipment: Bunsen burners, flasks, racks of test tubes, petri dishes and so on. Along the left wall there were large steel canisters stacked in racks. Seeing nothing, they crept inside, staying low and concealed behind the benches. They found their way to a pair of solid concrete support columns on opposite sides of the room and took cover.

The door at the far end of the room opened and they could hear a confused jumble of voices coming from the other side. One voice was louder and harsher than the others, but they couldn't quite make out what was being said yet. It was definitely multiple subjects. Nick and Judy glanced at each other across the room and read concern in each other's eyes.

"Get the canisters and load them on the rucks; we're getting the hell out of here, this is taking too long already!" the harsh, guttural voice spoke again.

"Sure thing boss..." another voice said, with some grumbles of agreement from at least one more.

They were dealing with three, maybe four subjects. Too many if they were armed. Nick leaned out very slowly, trying to get a glimpse of them, moving as slowly as he could manage. He didn't see the test tube that had been left lying on the floor. It rattled along the concrete when his foot kicked it. His ears snapped down as his eyes locked with Judy's.

 _Aw sh-_ She saw his mouth form the words but the sound was stolen as the world erupted in a cacophony of automatic gunfire, ricochets and shattering glass. Bullets screamed through the air, spattering over the pillars, the tables and the floor in their general direction. Judy sunk low, her back pressed against the pillar as she tried to make herself as small as possible. It looked like they didn't know exactly where she and Nick were yet, but that wouldn't last long if they didn't do something quick. She took a deep breath and screamed to Nick, "OPEN FIRE!"

Simultaneously they leaned out from cover and opened up with rapid fire, hoping to suppress the shooters and buy themselves some time. More shattering glass and ricochets, but unfortunately no hits by the sound of it.

"This is Bravo-Six! Ten-thirty-three! Shots fired, SHOTS FIRED!" Nick roared into his shoulder mic, "Need backup, NOW!"

The crooks ripped up the room with another volley of fire, this time the bullets were concentrated on the pillars; their cover was pretty obvious at this point.

"Nick!" Judy yelled over the gunfire, "Fire extinguishers! On my mark!"

Nick nodded in reply, gritting his teeth; he had seen the large fire extinguishers mounted on the pillars close to the subjects. It was probably their only chance. He gripped his pistol tightly in both hands.

Judy waited for the telltale clicking that meant they were reloading. Nick saw her ear twitch. "NOW!" she yelled, leaning out and opening fire. Nick did the same and both extinguishers exploded, flooding the area with a thick cloud of white fire retardant.

The thugs coughed and sputtered, disoriented by the billowing white mist. Nick and Judy lunged from cover, dashing in wide flanking arcs and plunging into the cloud. Judy found her mark; through the haze, he looked like some kind of medium sized mammal, maybe a raccoon or a weasel. She leaped up, grabbing the muzzle of the submachine gun and yanking down on it while grabbing the butt and pushing up. The stock smashed into the thug's chin with a loud, nasty crack that probably meant a shattered jaw and a few broken teeth. Without missing a beat, she grabbed his ears and threw her weight down, folding him in half so hard his nose almost touched his toes as he slammed into the floor. In an instant she was on top of him, snapping the handcuffs in place behind his back.

Nick trapped his subject's gun arm and wrenched him down over his hip in an armbar takedown. The crook's chest slammed into the floor so hard it knocked the wind out of him, making it a simple matter for Nick to plant his knee on his shoulder and tweak his elbow to force him to drop the gun. He clicked the cuffs into place, whipping his pistol out again and scanning for the third subject as Judy did the same.

Slowly the billowing white mist thinned and parted, revealing a snarling black bear dressed in green fatigues and tactical gear fighting with the charging handle on his weapon – it had become badly jammed and in the confusion and haze he couldn't clear it. His eyes went wide as saucers when he found himself staring down the barrels of Nick and Judy's service pistols and saw his friends, who turned out to be a coyote and a raccoon, prostrate on the floor, disarmed and handcuffed. He stared for a moment before throwing down his gun and spinning on his heel, dashing off at full speed.

"I'm on him!" Judy said, leaping up and dashing off after him.

Nick scrambled to his feet, sprinting to keep up. He noticed a door leading to a side hallway that looked like it paralleled the room the bear had run into; the hall would have less obstructions. He crashed through the door and sprinted even harder. "Dispatch, this is Wilde, two in custody, foot pursuit on the third! Judy, I'm flanking right!"

"Ten-four! I've almost got him!" came Judy's panted reply.

Nick turned the corner and found himself in front of a large double door marked "Lab 5". He slammed through the crash bars and found himself in a darkened laboratory similar to the one they just left. This time the only illumination was from low level safety lighting, casting most of the room in shadows but leaving a reasonably well lit corridor down the middle. Nick slipped in between the workbenches, his pistol raised as he scanned for the subject.

His ear twitched as he detected the sound of running paws approaching rapidly; he was in a perfect position to intercept. He crouched behind a bench and watched the entrance.

The bear burst through, running full tilt; he swiped at a table full of chemistry equipment, scattering shattered glass across the floor in Judy's path. She bounded over it with ease, gaining with every stride.

Suddenly, the bear grabbed a pistol they hadn't noticed from a holster on his chest rig and spun around on his heel, bringing the gun to bear on Judy. Nick raised his gun, his finger poised on the trigger, ready to drill the bear in the side of the head. He steadied the front sight on the target, began the trigger squeeze, but stopped short at what happened next.

Judy lunged into a slide along the smooth concrete floor, then sprang into a brutal double kick that landed square in the bear's groin. The hapless goon seemed to lift off the floor a few inches as Judy sailed between his legs and landed on all fours behind him. There was a frozen moment before a long, low groan of agony escaped his throat, his knees buckled and he crashed onto the floor in a heap of gut wrenching pain.

Nick grinned as he lowered his gun. "Damn, Carrots, you're nasty!" he said to himself, heaving a sigh of relief. He stood up, preparing to step out and congratulate his partner.

Judy was distracted cuffing the suspect, wrestling his muscular arms into position as she fitted the handcuffs. They clicked into place and she hit the double locks, sitting back with a sigh of relief. She didn't hear the other clicking sound – the sound of a gun's hammer being cocked.

"Say goodbye to your partner, Nicky..." an eerily familiar voice wafted from the shadows. Horrified, Nick lunged for Judy.

His shoulder slammed into her and sent her skidding across the floor just as a fireball erupted from the darkened back office of the lab. A thunderous blast echoed off the sterile walls. There was a spark and a sickly thud, accompanied by searing agony in Nick's chest.

Everything seemed to be moving in ultra slow motion as he raised his pistol, fighting to focus on the front sight like the sergeant taught him at the academy. He squeezed off shot after shot, his muzzle blasts blanking out the world with fire, each one stealing a bit more from the edge of his vision.

He could have sworn he heard cruel laughter followed by the crash of a door as his gun slide locked and suddenly became unbearably heavy. He glanced over at Judy, the pain in his chest growing rapidly, a searing, burning pain that refused to abate.

Judy struggled to her feet, scrambling over to him. She was unharmed, thank goodness. Nick smiled broadly, feeling a metallic taste in his mouth and something warm on his lips. The look of horror in Judy's eyes gave him an idea what it was.

"My turn to save you for once, Carrots..." he said, his voice raspy and weak. He reached out and cupped her cheek as much to reassure himself as her, but he found his paw falling limp after a moment. It must be pretty bad...

"Oh..oh no, Nick! You're hit... _oh damn it, you're shot!_ " she said, her eyes widening. "Ten-thirty-three!," she screamed into her mic, "Officer down! I say again, ten-thirty-three, Wilde is shot! Get me ten-fifty-two, NOW!"

"You bunnies..." Nick said weakly, "So emotional..." He slumped over and fell onto his back, coughing violently, blood staining his teeth. He reached up and felt his chest where the pain was coming from. His middle finger found its way into a disturbingly deep hole in his vest. The bullet had punched right through. "Well... _shit_..." he wheezed, straining for breath.

"Nick!...Nick stay with me, damn it! _Don't you dare die, you hear me?!_ " Judy pleaded, ripping off his vest and shirt. There was a gruesome mess of blood in his fur and a gaping, bubbling hole in his chest. She pressed on it with one paw and grabbed her trauma kit from her belt with the other. "Son of a bitch must have been using armour piercing rounds..." she hissed under her breath, lifting her paw just long enough to press a sterile membrane over it to seal it and keep the lung from collapsing.

"Language, Carrots..." Nick said softly, managing a pained smile. He was drifting, his eyelids slipping closed.

He heard sirens wafting through the haze that was rapidly clouding his senses. He somehow became aware of paramedics surrounding him and lifting him onto a stretcher. He strained for every last ounce of awareness he could manage and reached out a trembling paw in the direction he felt Judy must be.

" _Carrots..._ " he said, his voice a barely audible gurgle. He felt her paw slip into his and he squeezed it as if it was his last lifeline, forcing his eyes to focus on hers, "Don't...leave me...don't...want…...t...die..alone..."

Her voice was the last thing to reach him before he slipped into unconsciousness: " _I'm with you, Nick._ "


	2. Chapter 2

Judy jumped into the back of the ambulance as they loaded Nick inside. She had a vice grip of his paw, and the fierce look in her eyes was more than enough of a hint that none of the paramedics should try to keep her out. They immediately started an intravenous drip, inserted a long airway tube to keep him breathing and applied oxygen.

As the sirens blared and the engine roared to life, Judy held on to Nick with one paw and the bench seat with the other and whispered a prayer that her partner would live out the night.

The ride to the hospital took only twenty minutes, though it felt like an eternity. She held his paw as they wheeled him through the crash doors of the ER, but as they wheeled him rapidly around the corner and into the acute treatment area, one of the trauma nurses firmly but gently barred her progress. She was a tall, slender oryx with pale blue eyes and elegant, slender, spiraled horns. Judy's eyes followed Nick's stretcher into the trauma bay. As the nurses and doctors began working on him, she caught snippets of their terse, rapid fire conversation even as she tried to listen to the oryx barring her way.

_We need a chest tube, stat!_

"You'll have to wait in the recovery unit waiting room, officer. He's in good hands, don't worry," she said, as if it was even possible.

_Get a second IV in, he's gonna need multiple units of blood...BP's stabilizing, we gotta move him to the OR quick._

Seeing the despair darkening Judy's face, she added in a softer tone, "I promise you, we'll do everything possible to save him." With that, she turned and vanished through the sliding glass door that separated the acute unit from the rest of the ER.

Judy sighed and turned to head toward the waiting room, rubbing the back of her paw across her forehead. She stopped suddenly when she noticed the crimson smear that stained her silver gray fur. Her eyes wide with horror, she turned over her trembling paw to find it caked in Nick's blood. The other paw was just as bad.

She wanted to scream, but a choked gasp was all that escaped her throat. Tears stung her eyes as she looked around frantically, desperate to escape that moment and herself. She spotted the female washroom and dashed to it, slamming open the door and rushing to the sink. She paused as she saw herself in the mirror.

There was a splatter of Nick's blood across her face, partially smeared from when she dragged the back of her paw through it. Her uniform was spattered with his blood, and her arm guards were soaked in it. She ripped them off and threw them in the trash bin. She had to get it off, to wash it all away. She turned both faucets on full and shoved her paws under the gush of water, wringing them fiercely as her body began to heave with sobs.

She felt tears streaming down her face as she pumped thick gobs of soap and rubbed her paws harder, desperate to wash away the blood, to wash away her guilt. Nick's blood was on her paws; it was her fault – the most precious animal in her life was dying on the operating table and _it was her fault._

It was too much; she broke and let loose an agonized scream of horror and grief, sinking to her knees in front of the sink, pressing her face into her soaking paws and sobbing fiercely. _He had to live_ ; she needed with every fiber of her being for him to live. The clutching horror that he might already be dead gnawed at her mind and filled her gut with a void of awful, empty despair.

She barely noticed when someone knocked at the door; she was beyond moving or speaking to respond.

"Hello? Are you okay in there…?" came a delicate, feminine voice from outside.

There was a brief pause before Judy became aware of the door opening and someone coming inside. She felt almost detached from herself as gentle paws wrapped around her shoulders and a soft voice said, "Poor girl, let me help you..."

The voice had an almost melodious quality, its tone incredibly gentle, the tone a mother would use to comfort her crying child. She felt herself being lifted; her body obeyed the gesture, as if by instinct. She rose to her feet.

"Oh...oh my...you're her... _you're Judy!_ " the voice said softly, "Oh sweety, to think I'd meet you like this!"

Judy opened her eyes in shock and found herself staring into the face of a pretty, middle aged vixen in a lavender dress with a sage sweater over her shoulders. She carried a small black handbag and wore an elegant silver chain with a small jade pendant around her neck. Her eyes were a beautiful emerald green that Judy recognized instantly. She lurched back, consumed with guilt and shame; _it was Nick's mother._

"I'm...I'm so...so sorry…!" Judy stammered, the tears flowing freely from her eyes, her arms clutched over her chest. She wanted desperately to escape, to wrench herself free from the awful moment, but she was paralyzed.

Tears welled in the vixen's eyes, but they were filled with compassion and her tone was even softer and more gentle than before. "Oh no, sweety, no, it wasn't your fault...Chief Bogo called and told me what happened. Don't you dare blame yourself, Judy...oh, come here..." Judy had been about to collapse to her knees, but Nick's mother reached out and wrapped her up, holding her close against her chest.

"Shhhhh...there there," she said softly, patting Judy's back, "It'll be okay."

" _It won't!_ " Judy said, shaking her head, "Not if I lose him...it's my fault he got shot, I should have been paying more attention...I should have..."

"Shhh, no honey, we both know Nick would do the same thing again in a heartbeat. You did everything you could; sometimes things just go wrong, you know that."

Judy's sobs began to slow, then subsided. She paused for a few moments, trying to collect herself enough to speak. She had to be strong; the poor woman might lose her only son, and here Judy was falling to a puddle of tears. She took a deep breath and stepped back, quickly wiping her eyes. "Thank you," she said softly, managing a faint smile, then added, "I...I'm sorry, I don't even know your name..."

"Victoria Wilde," she said, smiling back, "And _you_ are the legendary Judy Hopps...Nick has told me a lot about you. I was looking forward to meeting you, though, I admit, not under these circumstances."

Judy just sniffled and nodded. At length she looked up and said, "I was hoping to meet you too, someday..." She wondered if the flush in her cheeks was as obvious as it felt. She quickly added, "Let's go find somewhere to sit...there's nothing else to do now but wait, I guess."

They walked together through the halls in silence for a few moments, following the thin red line that led to the OR waiting room, before Judy spoke up, "Nick...hasn't really told me much about you...I always wondered why. I'm always blabbing on about my family."

Victoria smiled and looked down, "Our relationship can be a bit...difficult at times. He might be annoyed at me for telling you, but I think he carries around a lot of shame about the direction his life took after his father died...I'm sure you know he's struggled a lot."

"Oh! I'm sorry to hear that," Judy said, glancing at Victoria, "Nick never mentioned his father; I didn't realize he had passed away."

A pained smile curled the corners of Victoria's muzzle. They rounded a corner together and found themselves in the large surgical recovery waiting room. It was nearly deserted, so they took a pair of chairs nearest the entrance that led to the operating room and sat down to pass the time.

Victoria sighed and leaned into the plush leather chair, setting her handbag down on the small table between them. Judy scooted up to the edge of her seat, watching her intently and waiting to hear more of her partner's mysterious history.

"My husband Alexander was a wonderful animal," Victoria continued, her posture relaxed, but very dignified, "He was a successful attorney, mostly practicing contract law, but his dream was to become the head of the prosecutor's office in Zootopia."

Judy perked a brow, "I didn't think prosecuting attorneys got paid as much as private practice lawyers..."

Victoria's faint smile broadened, "They don't. He always said that he wanted to speak for those who couldn't speak for themselves...to fight for justice. Being a fox, he ran into roadblock after roadblock trying to make headway with the administration. Nobody trusts a fox, but they all want one to defend them in court when they're up against it..." She glanced at Judy, "Well, _almost_ nobody."

Judy smiled broadly at that, her paws resting on her knees. She glanced at the operating room doors before speaking, "He would have been so proud of Nick...I wish he could have been there to see him graduate from the Academy. May I ask...what happened?"

Victoria folded her paws in her lap, glancing away out the window into the darkness outside, "He had been suffering ill health for some time...it turned out to be stage four renal cancer. We nearly went bankrupt trying every kind of treatment we could, but in the end it wasn't enough, and he passed away before he turned forty two..."

Judy raised her paw to her lips, her eyes wide. "That's awful..." she breathed, "I'm so sorry..." She felt tears welling in her eyes again, but she fought them back for Victoria's sake and kept listening.

"It wasn't too long afterward that the _muzzle incident_ happened—Nick mentioned that he told you about it—I think that's why it hurt him so deeply. He wanted so badly to join the Ranger Scouts because he felt like it would have made his father proud. It just crushed him, what they did, because it happened so soon after Alex's death and because he felt he had somehow failed his father's memory."

The tears had begun to well up in Victoria's eyes and streak down her ruddy furred cheeks. Judy scooted closer and reached out to touch her paws. Victoria continued, absently rolling her pendant between her fingers as she spoke, "He's carried that hurt for a long time, Judy...there were times I thought it would destroy him. I...I couldn't get through to him no matter how I tried...I think he felt like he had failed me too, and he was too ashamed to accept my help."

She turned her eyes to Judy with a pained, but earnest smile, "That's why I'm so thankful to you, sweetheart...you reached my boy. He told me the other day that you believed in him when nobody else would, even though he acted like a total ass toward you. So whatever happens tonight, don't you blame yourself for a moment, Judy. You already saved my Nick, and I'll be forever grateful." Her voice began to crack toward the end, so she raised her fist to her muzzle and turned away, shutting her eyes as tears flowed freely.

This time it was Judy's turn to surprise Victoria. The bunny leaped across the space between them and threw her arms tightly around her neck, hugging her but saying nothing. Victoria wrapped her arms around Judy and they stayed that way for a long while, until the sobs died away and she was able to compose herself again. Judy drew back and smiled a little, "Did he really say he acted like an ass?"

Victoria let out a quiet chuckle in spite of herself and smiled back, "Oh, yes. His words, not mine."

Judy hopped down and resumed her seat. They turned the conversation toward Judy's family background, her many siblings, her parents' over-protectiveness, anything to avoid the painful subject at hand, at least for a while.

Two hours passed, and both females had begun to give in to fatigue. They half dozed in their armchairs, fighting to stay awake, when a slender ocelot of about thirty dressed in surgical scrubs, his mask hanging about his neck, approached them. He seemed to have hastily thrown on a rumpled lab coat, his paws thrust deep into the pockets. His brilliant yellow eyes met each of theirs in turn from behind a pair of wire rimmed spectacles. He gave a polite nod, "Good evening. I'm Doctor Klawsen, Officer Wilde's surgeon."

Both females rose to their feet expectantly, glancing at each other before looking breathlessly at Klawsen. He continued, "I don't want to give you unrealistic expectations, but the surgery went very well. I believe we've repaired all the damage, and Officer Wilde's left lung is functioning normally...I don't mind telling you that an inch further to the left and the bullet would have struck his aorta...he would have bled to death before the ambulance even left the station."

Judy and Victoria heaved a collective sigh of relief. Judy was the first to speak, "What's the prognosis doctor?"

The doctor shrugged, "I can't say for sure. He's in excellent health and fitness, he's young, that all helps. The damage was very serious, but barring unforeseen complications, _I think_ he'll make a full recovery. Give him a few hours to sleep, then you can try a visit. The anesthesia should wear off around ten or eleven in the morning I think, although in cases like these, it's not uncommon for the patient to remain unconscious hours longer."

" _Thank you, thank you!_ Oh thank goodness he's okay!" Judy said, wringing her own paws in elation as the doctor didn't seem forthcoming with a handshake.

The taciturn surgeon cracked a smile at Judy's joyful outburst. He withdrew his right paw from his pocket and held it out, something apparently clutched in his fist. "I think maybe you should hold onto this, Officer Hopps..." he said, turning over his paw to reveal Nick's badge. There was a bullet impact on the left edge where the metal had deformed and been partially destroyed; it looked like the badge bought Nick the inches that separated life from death.

Judy reached out and took it reverently into her paws, stroking her fingertip over it once before slipping it into her pocket. She turned to Victoria and was about to say something when a familiar voice interjected.

"Mrs. Wilde, Officer Hopps, I'm glad I found you both. I'm sorry it took me so long to get here."

Judy turned to see Chief Bogo striding toward them. Instead of the uniform she was accustomed to, he was dressed in a long black overcoat, a gray collared shirt and a pair of rumpled khakis. His shirt was tucked in slightly askew and he had missed the fourth button from the top. There was a small blue bundle tucked under his left arm.

He was accompanied by a young patrol officer, a bighorn ram whose mirror shined hooves and perfectly pressed uniform suggested an eager rookie. The pair stopped in front of Victoria and Judy, and Bogo extended his hand first to the former. "Mrs. Wilde...I'm so sorry to have to meet you under these circumstances. If there's anything I can do to help you, please don't hesitate to ask," he said. He turned to Klawsen, "You're the surgeon, then? How is my officer?"

The doctor pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, gesturing to Judy and Victoria, "I was just saying before you came up that Officer Wilde survived the surgery and is in recovery now. The outlook is about as good as can be expected, but nothing is certain at this point."

Bogo nodded, "Thank you, Doctor."

The young ocelot nodded in return, "I have to be going, but I'll make sure the staff update you if there's any change. Good night." With that, he turned and strode back to the operating room doors. Bogo waited for him to leave, then turned to Judy.

"I brought you this," he said, extending the bundle that had been tucked under his arm; it was a fresh uniform in her size, "You'll need to give that uniform to Officer Ramsay here to be tagged as evidence."

Judy took it in both paws, staring at it for a moment before looking back to the Chief, "Sir, I..."

Bogo held up a hoof to silence her, though when he spoke, his tone was more gentle than she expected, "It's all right, Hopps, you don't have to explain anything. They brought me up to speed on everything that happened; there was nothing wrong with the call you made. Sometimes things go to Hell out there and we just have to pick up the pieces afterward."

She blinked rapidly a few times, refusing to let a tear escape in front of the Chief. She nodded, looking down at the uniform in her paws to make sure none showed. "Thank you, sir," she said after a moment.

She headed back to the washroom and emerged some minutes later dressed in the fresh uniform. She handed the blood spattered one to Ramsay, who paused and looked it over before taking it from her paws.

"I was in Nick's class at the academy...he's a lot tougher than he lets on. He's going to be fine, Officer Hopps," he said, his gaze steadfast as he raised his eyes to meet hers. He took the bloodied uniform and dropped it into an evidence bag, closing the seal immediately. "We'll all go for beers sometime," he added with a faint smile.

"You should get home and rest. There's nothing more to be done here tonight," Bogo said, dropping his hooves into his pockets.

Judy nodded, then turned to Victoria and mustered up a brave smile, "You should get some sleep too. We both have an appointment with Nick tomorrow when he wakes up."

"I'm so glad I finally met you, Judy. Take care, and I'll see you tomorrow," Victoria said, throwing her arms around Judy and giving a brief hug.

"One more thing, Hopps," Bogo interjected as she was about to turn to leave, "Make sure you call your family and let them know you're fine. You don't need them finding out about this on the morning news."

Judy blinked a few times in realization, then nodded to Bogo and headed off, walking briskly back along the red line that led to the front entrance.

The ride home was a blur. She pushed open the door to her apartment and stood in the threshold staring into the darkness for a long time; it seemed more vacant and lifeless than she ever thought it could. At last she forced her foot to move and stepped inside, shutting the door and dropping her keys in the bowl on the table by the door. She sat down at her desk and pulled out her phone, picking out her mom's cell from the contact list and pressing the send button.

It rang for a long time before her mom's sleepy voice came over the speaker. "Judy…? Is everything okay, honey…?"

"No...it's not..." she said falteringly.

She was glad that muzzletime was off, because her teardrops were running down the screen.


	3. Chapter 3

_HOLY CRAP I THINK SHE'S DEAD!_

Judy startled violently awake, dropping her phone on the desk and nearly toppling her chair in the process. Her eyes darted around the room, her breath coming in panicked gasps as she tried to force her fatigued, sleep addled mind to focus and make sense of what was happening.

_SHUT UP, NO WAY! SEE THAT FOX GUY GOT SHOT, NOT HER!_

She rubbed her head and looked at the small puddle of drool lying next to her phone on the desk; she had been so exhausted she fell asleep in the chair after hanging up with her mom. The frantic feeling welled up in her again for a moment when she saw that the clock read 0830, but then she remembered it was her first day off. The loud, angry shouting that jolted her awake was coming from her noisy neighbors. _At least something in the world is still as it should be..._ she thought with a sigh.

_WE GOTTA CHECK ON HER!_

_OKAY, YEAH, LET'S GO!_

There was a frantic clattering of hooves on the bare wood floors, a creaky door opening, more clattering, and finally a very loud, insistent knock at the door. Judy darted over to open it to prevent any further bellowing or pounding on her door.

"Oh thank goodness you're okay!" said Bucky, the tall, slightly built kudu, "We just saw the news, and we were all like, 'HOLY CRAP I THINK SHE'S DEAD!'"

Judy cringed as he gave a very accurate recreation of the shout that jolted her awake, except now without the limited benefit of the intervening wall. "Yeah..yeah I heard that part..." she said, forcing a smile.

Pronk, Bucky's oryx step brother and the more abrasive of the two, averted his gaze slightly and added, "Hey, we're real sorry about your partner...foxy whatshisname," he said, wringing his hooves a bit and hesitating before kneeling down to bring himself closer to her eye level, "For real, like, if there's anything you need, just ask us, okay?"

She smiled broadly and wiped the corner of her eye, "Thanks you guys, that's really sweet."

A panicked look washed over Pronk's face and he snapped back up to his full height, "Okay, she's doing the crying thing, get going, GO!" He shoved his step brother back toward their door.

Bucky waved back over Pronk's shoulder, "Take care of yourself, okay, Judy?"

Judy nodded in reply as they disappeared back inside and slammed the door. There was a moment of silence and she began to release a sigh and close her door.

_YOU THINK SHE'LL BE OKAY?!_

_YEAH, SHE'LL BE FINE, SHE'S A TOUGH BUNNY!_

_THE FOX MIGHT BE A GONNER THOUGH!_

_HEY SHUT UP, SHE'LL HEAR YOU!_

_YOU SHUT UP!_

_NO, YOU SHUT UP!_

Judy cringed again and shut the door. She paced the floor a few times considering what to do; she had to get out of there or she'd go stir crazy worrying about Nick. She stopped mid stride and hastily gathered her shower kit, some fresh civvies and her toiletries kit and headed into the hallway toward the female showers.

Within a half an hour she had emerged in jeans and a gray tank top with a black sweater over her shoulders. She boarded the commuter train to Zootopia General Hospital. She had her ear buds in and her music turned up; she had no interest in talking to anyone today if she didn't have to.

Beside her on the seat was a small container of blueberries, and she clutched a large Snarlbucks latte between her paws, though she didn't drink it. She mused over it briefly, thinking it was probably foolish, wishful thinking to hope Nick would be awake to drink it when she got there, but she'd rather have it turn cold and get thrown out than have him wake up and not have it there waiting for him.

She plucked her ear buds and stuffed them into her pocket as she entered the hospital, deftly managing to keep a hold of the blueberries and the coffee without spilling either. She strode up to the central information kiosk, which thankfully had three different counter heights to accommodate different sized mammals. The one that matched her size was manned by a very sharp looking young otter dressed in a crisp white shirt, a red tie and a blue shawl collared cardigan. He was typing rapidly on his computer, but he glanced up as Judy approached the desk and gave an easy, welcoming smile, "Hello, how can I help you today?"

"Is Nick Wilde still in the ICU?" she asked, setting her things down momentarily on the counter.

The otter turned to his screen again, clicking a few times with his mouse, then quickly tapping a few keys. "Just a moment..." he said, studying the screen. He glanced at her, then back at the screen, "Umm...no, sorry, no patients here by that name, Miss…?"

Judy furrowed her brow at him in confusion for a moment, then it dawned on her what was going on. "Oh, just a sec..." she reached into her pocket and pulled out her badge wallet, flashing her badge discreetly so that only the otter could see it, "Judy Hopps, ZPD. Nick is my partner."

The otter's eyes lit up and he nodded, "Ah, sorry about that, Officer Hopps...apparently the Chief ordered that a Do Not Announce be put on Officer Wilde."

"Did he say why, exactly?"

The otter merely shrugged, "I don't imagine he'd tell us even if we asked. In any case, have a nice visit! Remember, visiting hours are from eight am to eleven am, then from one pm to eight pm."

"Thanks!" Judy said, gathering her coffee and blueberries and heading for the elevators.

She found her way to the fourth floor ICU and buzzed the nursing station, remembering to immediately identify herself as an officer this time. They let her in, checked her credentials at the desk, then pointed out Nick's room. The door was open, so she quietly entered, pausing to look around.

There was a large picture window opposite the door that flooded the room with sunlight, its wide sill topped with granite. The bed was on the left as she entered, centered on the wall, with all manner of tubes and monitoring equipment surrounding it. Nick was still hooked up to an IV with two bags hung on it – fluids and antibiotics, Judy figured. The breathing tube was still in place, held to Nick's lower jaw with a band that also kept his tongue from lolling out of his mouth. The heartbeat monitor was showing a steady, normal looking rhythm, and it looked like the ventilator was only moving a little bit, perhaps only assisting rather than doing all the breathing for him.

Judy moved closer, setting the coffee and blueberries on the table beside the bed. It was then that she noticed Victoria slumped in the large armchair just to the left of the bed. She was sound asleep, cuddled into the chair with a blanket over her. Not wanting to wake her, Judy moved very close to the bed and took Nick's paw in hers, so that she could speak softly and be sure he could hear her, if any part of his mind was able.

"Hey, partner..." she whispered, tenderly stroking the back of his paw with her thumb, "I know you probably can't hear me, but in case you can, I brought you a large latte and some blueberries...I know how you love 'em."

She hesitated a few moments, feeling a little self conscious, but feeling a stronger compulsion welling within her than silly bashfulness. She continued, moving closer and wrapping her other paw around his palm, hoping to feel even the slightest twitch of response, "Nick, listen...the doctor said you're in good shape, but from here on out it's up to you. I need you to come back to me, Nick... _please_. You need to come back to me, and together we're going to find the bastard that did this to you and put him away. Just...fight like I know you can, that's all I ask..."

Suddenly there was a gentle knock on the door frame, followed by a soft, feminine voice, "Hello? Sorry to disturb you, just coming to check the patient. Oh, it's you!"

Judy turned to see the delicate features and elegant spiral ribbed horns of the oryx she met in the ER the previous night. She smiled and nodded, "Hi, we didn't get properly introduced last night. I'm Judy Hopps, Nick's partner."

The oryx returned Judy's smile, moving to check the vitals displayed on the various life support equipment. "Elsa Sardonix," she said, speaking as she worked, "Pleasure to meet you properly, hon. I'll be Officer Wilde's nurse for today. I was filling in last night in ER, so I'll be around here a lot the next little while. I see momma fox is still snoozing. Best we let her rest, I think."

Judy nodded, then looked at Nick. "How is he doing?" she asked as she wrung her paws.

"Hmmmm..." Elsa said, checking all the vitals and examining the IV drip closely for a few seconds, "Pretty darn good for a guy who got shot through the lung last night. I'm afraid he's probably going to be snowed for the rest of the day from the medications, though."

Judy nodded, clasping her right elbow in her left paw and turning her gaze to Nick's face. His brows were knit in a subtle frown. She wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad sign. Was he in pain? Was he suffering deep within himself somewhere, beyond her reach? She hated this feeling of helplessness; there was nothing she wouldn't do to help him, but the fact was there was nothing she could do.

"If you want my advice..." Elsa said, her voice a gentle interjection into Judy's reverie, "I suggest you head out for the day and do something to take your mind off of all this. If you come back in the evening, there's a chance the drugs will be worn off and he'll be awake. Just pop by the nursing station and leave your number, we'll call you if anything changes."

Judy looked back to Nick again, standing in silence for a few moments as she considered what to do. Finally, she turned back to Elsa with a look of decision on her face, "Okay, I'll just say goodbye, then I'll head out and come back tonight."

Elsa nodded and gave a friendly wave as she departed, heading back to the nursing station. Judy waited until she was gone, then darted to the side of the bed again. She hesitated, poised close to Nick's head, and glanced at Victoria; she sighed and pulled the blanket up higher, nestling into the back of the chair, still asleep. Judy clasped Nick's paw again and whispered in his ear, "Come back to me soon, sly fox." She leaned in and kissed his cheek before heading quickly out of the room.

She headed out of the hospital and boarded the transit system again, but for the life of her, couldn't think of anywhere to go. She had resolved to just ride around the city on the train all day listening to her music when it zipped through the tunnel into the rainforest district. The sun was shining brilliantly, shimmering off the leaves of the forest canopy and the quivering lakes and rivers below. Judy let her gaze wander over the scenery; that's when she saw it.

Several blocks away, she could just make out the roof of the pharmaceutical lab poking out among the trees. She was gripped with resolve; she had to go back there, to do whatever she could to try to help. At the very least, the detectives on the case would need to interview her, so why not make it easier by going to them instead of them having to find her?

Glancing up at the route map above the door, she noticed that the second station would put her out only a few blocks from the lab. She moved up near the doors, taking a seat where she could easily see the station approaching.

The train screeched to a halt and Judy hopped off, darting rapidly between the larger animals and heading for the station exit. A brief five minute walk brought her within view of the gray-green edifice of the lab. In the early afternoon light, it seemed far less foreboding than it had shrouded in rain and darkness the night before, although its sleek, modern design now seemed more incongruous with the organic backdrop of the rainforest surrounding it. She noticed Officer McHorn standing sentry outside the perimeter of yellow police tape, his grizzled face set in its habitual grim scowl. She strolled up to him.

That grim face often deterred many animals from getting anywhere near McHorn, but her time on the force had taught her to see past appearances and she had come to know the good-natured rhino as a friend. "McHorn, how goes it? They got you holding down the fort, huh?" she said, offering a friendly wave as he turned toward her.

McHorn held out his massive fist in greeting, which she accepted by jumping up and punching her tiny fist into it. "Hey, Jude!" he said, "I heard Nick pulled through last night. How's he doing?"

"Pretty well, I guess. They said he won't be awake until tonight, so I figured I'd come down and try to make myself useful. I figure they've got to interview me about it one way or another," she said with a shrug.

McHorn snorted in response, his pendant lip curling in a smirk, "Such a keener." He was about to say more when he noticed her gaze fixed on the front door and followed it to see what had caught her attention.

A tall, slenderly built canine had stepped through the front doors. He was smartly dressed in a hunter green sport coat, black shirt and black trousers. A highly polished detective's shield glinted on his belt to the right of the buckle. He wore a yellow tie with blue stripes that was loosely knotted around his unbuttoned collar, the only juxtaposition in his otherwise sharp appearance. His fur was a ruddy colour, with black socks on all four limbs and a shock of black mane that ran from the crest of his head between his tall, pricked ears and fluffed out around his collar. He had a splash of white down his chin and throat, just like Nick, but it ended at his collar rather than covering his entire front.

His fluffy tail with its shock of white at the tip was jerking back and forth as he fished something from his pocket. Pulling out a pack of cigarettes, he deftly tugged a smoke out with his teeth, then struck up a silver zippo and lit it. He took a long drag on his cigarette and blew a wafting cloud into the air.

"Who's that?" Judy asked in surprise.

"Detective Wolfram," McHorn said, looking back at Judy, "He's one of the lead investigators on the file."

"I thought we only had one fox on the force," Judy said absently, watching him with some interest.

"We do," said McHorn, his voice taking on a worried tone, "And don't let him hear you say anything like that, or you'll get an ear full, believe me. He's a maned wolf, and he _hates it_ when he gets mistaken for a fox."

Judy nodded to McHorn. "Right! Thanks for the heads up, McHorn! Stay cool out here," she said, heading toward the Detective.

"Say hi to Nick for me," McHorn called after her before resuming his scowling vigil.

Judy approached the tall wolf cautiously, making a careful examination of him as she drew closer. He had chiseled features with a sharply defined jaw and brows. His eyes were a rusty orange colour, bearing a look of keen intelligence; they locked on her as she got closer. He appeared even taller up close, perhaps a head and a half taller than the timber wolves on the force, but most of his height was in his legs, a fact made even more evident by the fact that his trousers were just slightly too short. His arms were equally lengthy, leaving his wrist bones exposed beyond a pair of double cuffs fastened with silver cufflinks. She stopped in front of him, and he regarded her with an incisive gaze, taking a slow draw on his cigarette, his free hand thrust into his trouser pocket.

"This is a restricted area, ma'am," he said at length, his tone measured but less than friendly, "You'll have to move along."

"Officer Hops, ZPD Patrol, First Precinct," Judy said, producing her badge, "I understand you're Detective Wolfram?"

He perked a brow at her and took another drag, "So you're Hopps? I'm sorry about your partner, but what are you doing at my crime scene?"

"Well, I just...I figured since you guys need to interview me anyway, I might as well come down and see if I can make myself useful," she said, beginning to feel the pressure of Wolfram's cold, calculating gaze and wondering if maybe this was a dumb idea after all.

"We've got it well in paw, Hopps," he said dryly, dropping his cigarette and grinding it into the pavement with his footpaw before kicking it backward into the flower bed, "We'll be in touch."

Just then the doors opened again and the more familiar and much friendlier face of Lieutenant Mundi appeared. She had met him briefly a few times at the station and always found him inviting and pleasant to speak with. A squat, round-shouldered coati, his languid movements and easy smile made Judy instantly feel more relaxed.

He was dressed, as usual, in an old brown suit with a loose green tie, topped off with a terribly rumpled and threadbare khaki trench coat. A long time veteran of the Zooicide unit, his face showed his age with its sprinkling of silver hairs around the muzzle and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. He stopped and cast a glance at Wolfram. "What're you doing out here, Eli? Berating Officer Hopps on her day off?" he asked with a casual air.

Wolfram glanced at Mundi, his mouth a taut line, but said nothing. He was, after all, a superior.

Judy smiled warmly and shook Mundi's paw, surprised that he knew it was her day off. Obviously he was far sharper about his work than his appearance and demeanor suggested. "Lieutenant! It's been a while, good to see you, sir. I just figured I'd drop by and see if I can help in any way," she said with a grin.

He nodded sagely and turned back toward the building with a wave of his paw, "Come on in. We'll get you up to speed."

Wolfram rolled his eyes, thrusting his paws into his trouser pockets and falling in step behind.

They entered into a large lobby area which was undisturbed by the previous night's violence, then proceeded through a door behind the reception desk to a security room filled with monitors. Several of them showed teams of ferrets from CSI scouring the bullet scarred labs, marking exhibits, photographing, taking samples and so on. As her gaze wandered over the various screens, she came to one which showed a relatively empty lab with a large dark stain in the middle of the floor. She quickly looked away from that one as Mundi started speaking.

"So, we got these guys all dressed up like ninjas, and they come in through the back door like they own the place, but all they take is a couple of these big metal canisters...you see here?" he said, indicating a screen which showed a bank of them from which several had been removed.

"What was in them?" Judy asked, looking from the screen to the grizzled Lieutenant.

"That's the strange part...they were full of Night Howler antidote..." he looked at her with a wry half smile, one brow raised.

Surprise washed over Judy's features as she stared at the screen, "Why would someone go to such extremes to steal something like that?"

"We're considering industrial espionage," Wolfram said, "This is the only pharmaceutical company to develop an antidote to the Night Howler toxin...since Night Howlers are still out there and haven't been made illegal, it's a valuable product to be able to produce. Whoever these guys are, they were pretty well kitted out. It suggests financial backing of some kind."

Judy mulled over the screen for a moment longer, stroking her chin with her fingertip before she turned to Mundi with a look of sudden realization, "Did you get any footage of the guy who shot Nick?"

"Heh, suuure, we got plenty..." Mundi said, tapping a few buttons on the keypad. Several of the screens changed to various shots of a figure shrouded in shadows, blocked by pillars, or too far from the camera to make out anything but a blur.

"You gotta be kidding me..." Judy said, gesturing at the screens in exasperation, "These are worthless! It's like he was deliberately avoiding the cameras!"

"Yep, pretty much all crap," Mundi said with a sigh, "We'll send em to the boys down at the lab, but I wouldn't hold out hope."

"Wait a sec! What about that camera?" she said, pointing out the one that was currently showing the empty room with the blood stained floor.

"What about it?" Wolfram asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's where Nick was shot...did it capture that?"

Wolfram shrugged, "Sure, but the room was dark and he was standing in the darkest part of it."

"Until he fired..." Judy said, staring at the screen, "His gun...it sounded different from any of the other gun shots...it was way louder, had a different tone..."

"We didn't find any casing from that shot – must have been a revolver," Wolfram said.

"Nick had an awful big hole in him, and it punched right through his armor like it wasn't there..." Judy said, tapping her chin thoughtfully with one finger, "It's also easier to shoot specialty rounds like AP from a revolver since it can accommodate different length cartridges...what if we went frame by frame over the moment Nick was shot...do you think it's possible the muzzle flash and the blast from the cylinder gap might give enough light to pick out more details?"

The two investigators glanced at each other in surprise. Mundi clicked his tongue, "Well! Not bad, Hopps! It's worth a try, anyway."

He punched a few more keys and the monitor directly in front of them changed to the footage of the previous evening, paused with a time stamp just before the time Nick was shot. Mundi's finger was poised over the frame by frame key.

"Are you sure you want to see this, Hopps?" he asked gently.

She glanced at him, then nodded, turning back to the screen. He pushed play.

She watched the awful events of the preceding night played back in slow motion. Her taking down the bear, Nick watching from the side, lowering his gun, stepping, lunging, slamming into her, and finally the awful moment of the blast from the shadows. They froze the frame at the instant the blast illuminated the shooter. Being black and white footage, colours were impossible to identify, but they could see a bluntish muzzle, somewhat large canine ears, black paws, a dark suit with a lighter shirt and black tie, but most disturbing was the glint of flame on the wide, vicious grin.

Mundi nodded, clapping his paw over Judy's shoulder. "It's something," he said, "We'll follow it up and see what we find. We've still got a lot of work down here." He glanced at Wolfram, "Detective Wolfram here was just heading downtown to interrogate those clowns you and Wilde arrested last night. I'm sure he'd be happy to give you a ride, wouldn't you, Eli?"

Wolfram scowled briefly, but at last gave an exasperated sigh, "Yeah, sure."

They turned and headed for the exit, but just as they reached the door, Mundi spoke again.

"Just one thing bothers me..." he said, tapping the side of his head with a fingertip, "This guy, he's got at least a couple of the canisters, you guys don't even know he's there...why does he stick around to shoot at you?"

Judy's nose twitched faintly as she considered that for a moment. None of what came to mind was particularly pleasant. "If I remember anything else that might be useful, I'll give you guys a call," she said, "Take care, Lieutenant."

Mundi waved and she and Wolfram departed, passing through the lobby and emerging once again into the afternoon sunlight. Wolfram led her to a long, sleek 70's era fast-backed muscle car parked in the lot in front of the building.

It was dark green with chrome wheels and a white racing stripe extending from the hood over the roof to the trunk. A red magnetic police light was stuck to the roof above the driver's seat. The car was obviously well taken care of, but just like its owner, it was a bit rough around the edges. The fenders, doors and bumpers bore a few scrapes and dents that hinted it may have seen its share of chases.

Wolfram opened the passenger door and smirked. "After you," he said, inviting her with a careless gesture before adding, "Sorry I don't have a booster seat to offer you."

Judy ignored the jab. "Thanks," she said flatly, and hopped inside.

Without another word, Wolfram planted himself behind the wheel, tossed the police light in the back seat and cranked the ignition. The engine roared to life and they rumbled out of the parking lot and down the street.

Several minutes passed in awkward silence until Judy couldn't stand it any more. "I'm sorry if it seemed I was overstepping myself by coming down today. I just thought maybe I could help somehow...and I didn't know what else to do…" she said, looking out the window.

Wolfram sighed, "I know about your work on the Night Howler case, Hopps...and frankly, as a predator, I appreciate it, but this isn't the movies; you don't get to play Supercop with every case you come across."

Judy felt heat rising in her ears and a burning feeling in the pit of her stomach. "I'm not playing at anything, Detective. My partner took a bullet for me last night; this is the furthest thing from a game," she said hotly, though she managed to moderate her tone enough to avoid sounding totally insubordinate.

He gave her a sidelong glance, his knuckles tightening around the wheel as he carved a turn. "That's exactly why you need to leave it to the professionals who can maintain some objectivity."

She scowled at him, but swallowed the anger welling up in her throat and forced herself to look out the window. "Yeah, well it may be just another file to you, but not to me," she said, her fists clenching in her lap, "I guess we can't all be jaded, emotionless cynics."

Wolfram cranked the wheel hard and pulled over, stomping the brakes and bringing the car to a screeching halt. Judy was thrown into her shoulder belt, then snapped back against the seat. Wolfram glared furiously at her, his ears pinned back and his black mane bristling around his collar as his rust coloured eyes bored into her.

"Listen up, _rookie!"_ he said, practically spitting the epithet at her, "I've been a cop for over fifteen years, the last seven of those in Zooicide. I've seen the _ugliest side of this city_ – things that would make you toss your carrots – so don't think for _one second_ that I could even get myself out of bed in the morning, let alone put on this badge and come into the office if I didn't _care!"_

Judy glared back just as hard, her jaw set in a grim sneer, her nostrils flared and her ears pinned flat against her neck. " _Yes, sir!_ " she practically growled at him, "This is _your_ case, and I won't interfere with your job, but Nick is _my_ partner and _my_ friend, and I'll be _damned_ if I don't do everything I can to make sure the bastard who shot him is caught!"

Wolfram was caught off guard by Judy's ferocity. His brows peaked, his mouth hanging open for a moment before he turned away. He stared straight ahead for some seconds, both paws gripping the wheel tightly. Judy turned to pull the door handle and step out, but Wolfram's voice halted her.

"Hopps, wait..." he said, his tone far softer than before. He heaved a sigh, turning to face her before he continued, "I promise you, Mundi and I will do everything possible to catch this guy. Nobody shoots a cop in my town and walks, you feel me?"

She nodded, "Thanks, Detective...I'm glad you two are on the case."

"You don't have to walk, Hopps..." he added hesitantly, looking a bit embarrassed by his outburst.

She shut the door with a faint smile, "Don't sweat it. The hospital isn't too far and the walk will help clear my head. Thanks for the ride."

He regarded her for a moment with his discerning rust-coloured gaze before giving a shrug, lighting another cigarette and driving off with a wave out his window.

She made her way to the hospital and up to Nick's room. It was flooded with a dim golden glow when she arrived, the sunset reflected off the buildings across the street. The ventilator and breathing tube had been removed, leaving Nick lying comfortably, arms at his sides and breathing steadily on his own. Judy was glad; he looked far better this way. She found Victoria sitting quietly in the chair by Nick's bed reading a book with a cup of tea beside her. Judy moved to the chair and hugged her.

"Have you been here all day?" Judy asked, feeling suddenly guilty that _she_ hadn't.

Victoria shook her head, "No, I had to head into the office for part of the day. He hasn't come to. How was your day?"

A pained smile came to Judy's face and she instinctively slipped her paw into Nick's, giving a gentle squeeze. "It was a little rough," she said.

Her eyes went wide and her ears shot straight up as she felt him squeeze back. She whirled on her heel and found herself staring into Nick's half lidded eyes, the faintest smile curling the corners of his lips.

"Tell me about it, Carrots..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally written before I realized that Judy's roommates actually had names in canon. There are two possibilities given to explain their having the same hyphenated last name and being of (slightly) different species. I went with the one I felt best fit with their depiction on screen. They always struck me as loudmouthed college frat boy roommate types, so them being step brothers makes perfect sense to me in the context of the narrative, and goes a long way toward explaining the friction between them.


	4. Chapter 4

Victoria jumped up from her chair and was at Nick's side in two strides. She slipped her arms around his head and cradled it in a warm embrace. " _Oh Nick_ , welcome back, honey!" she said, tenderly stroking the fur between his ears, "You really had us worried."

"Funny..." he said, his voice still hoarse and his throat dry, "Last thing I remember, I had _myself_ pretty worried—that," he said, his eyes meeting Judy's as he gave another squeeze of her paw, this time longer and stronger, "— _and this_. Thanks for not letting go, Carrots."

Judy sniffed and wiped the corner of her eye. She said nothing, but the way she beamed at him with joy in her eyes was eloquent enough.

Victoria gave Nick's head one last squeeze, then gently kissed between his ears. "I'll get going and leave you two to catch up; early morning at the office and all that," she said, turning and winking at Judy so that Nick couldn't see, "Take good care of him, Judy. Oh, and Nick, she's every bit as wonderful as you told me."

Nick blushed furiously and grumbled to himself in annoyance as Victoria departed with a wave over her shoulder. "Come over for dinner sometime, you two," she said as she exited the room.

Judy giggled and looked back to Nick, who was busy staring out the window and trying not to look thoroughly embarrassed.

He cleared his throat, raising his fist to his muzzle, then looked back at Judy, his lips taut. "Welp, I'm just going to..." he began, attempting to sit up. He grimaced, shutting his eyes tightly as pain ripped through him, "Nope, nope... _not_ gonna do that."

Opening his eyes again, he found Judy staring at him with wide eyed concern. He flashed his best wry smile to assuage her worry, "Do me a favour and crank me up, wouldja, Carrots?"

She chuckled and moved to the back of the bed, squeezing the adjustment lever and propping him up into a semi-sitting position, being careful not to move too quickly and cause him more pain.

He heaved a sigh when she had finished, folding his paws in his lap and regarding her with his usual pleased smile. "How long was I out for, anyway?" he asked.

She hopped up on the bed and sat down beside his knees, half turning her body toward him, her paw resting on the other side of his legs to steady her. "You were hit last night around three. They got you here pretty fast and got you into surgery, thank goodness. I think they finished around five or six, and you've been out all day. It's, umm…," she said, pausing to check her phone, "Six thirty two now."

"Any chance they managed to catch the guy who shot me?"

Judy shook her head, looking downcast for a moment, "No, sorry...when you got hit, I knew it was pretty bad...I didn't want to leave your side."

A pained look came over his face and he shook his head. "If you had, I'd probably be dead right now…You saved my life, Carrots," he said, a reverent hush coming over his voice at the end.

"Hey, you saved my life first, mister!" she said, then averted her gaze to her footpaws, which she had begun swinging back and forth over the edge of the stretcher. "I went down to the crime scene today while you were sleeping," she began with a self conscious half smile and a quiet chuckle, "It was probably a stupid idea...I sort of had a run-in with Detective Wolfram..."

Nick chuckled slightly, then winced in pain and forced himself to stop, though he still managed a smirk. "Is that that guy from Zooicide who gets all pissy when anyone mistakes him for a fox?" he asked, "What'd you do, ask him if he was my dad or something?"

Judy broke into a bubbling laugh at that, which broadened Nick's smile. She shook her head, "Naw, I kinda called him a jaded, emotionless cynic..." she sighed, glancing at him, her footpaws still swinging, "I was wrong though; he's not so bad. He and Lieutenant Mundi are the lead investigators – they'll find the guy. _Oh!_ I did help a little bit, though!"

" _Really?_ Do tell, Detective Hopps," Nick said, perking a brow.

Judy smirked at him, "I had an idea that the guy who shot you was using a heavier caliber, possibly a revolver, and that if we did a freeze frame on the moment he fired, we might get enough light from the muzzle blast for a positive ID."

Nick pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully, "Clever bunny. I gather it wasn't quite as positive as you'd hoped though?"

She shook her head, looking down at the floor again, "No...all we could pick out was that he was wearing a suit and tie with a contrasting shirt, he has canine-like ears, a shortish muzzle..." She trailed off, as if leaving something out.

"And?" Nick asked, watching her carefully.

She shut her eyes, hesitating for a moment, as if she was seeing the image in her mind's eye. "He had the most _horrible grin_ on his face the moment he fired...like he...like he was _relishing it_..." she said, her voice slightly hushed.

Nick stared at the opposite wall for a long moment, silently musing over her words. At length he broke the silence, his voice low and measured, as if he was almost afraid to speak the words he was about to say. "Judy..." he began, keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead as she turned to look at him, "Right before I got hit...did you hear him say anything?"

She shook her head silently, studying his expression with keen interest.

"I can't be sure...everything is sort of a blur," Nick said, speaking slowly as he tried to force his memories to emerge, "but I feel like I heard him call me by name...like he knew _exactly_ who I was, and he was going to _kill you_ because he wanted to _hurt me_..."

Judy's eyes widened and she leaned toward him, planting her paws on either side of his hips, "You think the shooter might be someone you know?! What did he say exactly?"

Nick's eyes slipped closed and he remained still and silent for a moment. At length he shook his head, a pained expression on his face, "No...no, I can't be sure...I don't know."

Judy furrowed her brow, drawing back slightly. Her nose twitched pensively a couple of times. Finally she decided to change the subject. "Hey," she said, patting his leg, "I brought you blueberries this morning. I'm not sure they're any good by now, but you hungry?"

Nick perked up immediately, a grin spreading over his muzzle, "Are you kidding? I'm starving!"

Judy hopped down and moved to the side table by the chair where the box of blueberries was still waiting. She strode back to the bed and plunked them triumphantly in Nicks' lap, clambering back up beside his knees. "I brought you a coffee as well...but that's ice cold swill by now," she added, popping a blueberry in her mouth.

"Why, Carrots..." Nick said, flashing a warm, affectionate smile, "You're a peach."

Judy just rolled her eyes and popped another blueberry in her mouth. "Welcome back, Partner," she said.

-~x0x~-

The buzzing of florescent lights filled the room as Detective Wolfram studied the already thick case file spread out on the table in front of him. He was seated in the primary interview room at First Precinct, his footpaws crossed over each other just under the chair, his chin resting in his right paw, his left drumming the table – a symptom both of the craving for nicotine and his considerable annoyance.

He was pouring over the arrest record and photographs of Jonah Hawthorne, the coyote that Officer Wilde had apprehended just prior to being shot. Wolfram's rusty orange eyes bored into the photos as he attempted to read what sort of mind lay behind the hard lines and ashy-fawn coloured fur of that face. The other two had been totally recalcitrant, refusing to offer any information. They gave up more than they realized, of course, as is always the case, but still, little useful information had been gleaned so far. Perhaps Hawthorne would be an easier nut to crack.

Wolfram studied the caste of the icy-blue eyes, the subtle creases above the brows, the set of the jaw, the poise of the lips. There was something, perhaps, in that face that spoke to a less indurate heart than those of his companions. He'd been a detective far too long to give place to banal generalities and stereotypes, but likewise he had learned that certain animals had certain tendencies underlying their personalities.

By nature, canines tended to yield easily to notions of loyalty, comradeship and other such noble ideals. Though they were often known for their cunning and resourcefulness, he knew that they tended to be more driven by their hearts. He knew this, at least in part, by introspection. More than the other two, perhaps an appeal to his better nature might manage to crack the shell of Jonah Hawthorne. At the very least Wolfram could attempt to appeal to his pack mentality; both Jonah and the victim, Wilde, were canines, after all.

A knock at the door intruded into Wolfram's thoughts and he rose and opened it. He found himself staring into the eyes of the mammal whose photo he had just been studying. The coyote was handcuffed behind his back, escorted by Officer Grizzoli. Wolfram glanced at the lion. "Is he handcuffed?" he asked, stepping back to permit them to enter, "That won't be necessary; you can remove those."

Grizzoli perked a brow at Wolfram, "You sure about that, Detective? You know what this guy's crony did to Wilde last night."

Wolfram nodded, "Quite sure, thank you, Officer. I'll knock when we're finished." He turned to Hawthorne as the cuffs were being removed and gestured to the empty chair beside the table, "Please, have a seat."

The coyote glanced at Wolfram, then sat, absently rubbing his wrists for a moment. Wolfram moved to the rolling desk chair at the other end of the table, sitting down so that he could see Hawthorne's entire body, watching for even the most subtle body language cues. He smiled warmly, adopting a relaxed posture, "I'm Detective Eli Wolfram, but you can feel free to just call me Eli. Before we get started, I just want to make sure you've been well treated so far?"

Hawthorne nodded, glancing around the room nervously for a moment. He said nothing, his paws resting on his knees.

Wolfram smiled and nodded. "Good! Also, of course being that this is a police station, everything in this room is video and audio recorded," he began, entwining his fingers in front of him in a casual manner, "That's for your benefit as well, to make sure there's no misunderstandings. You were told by the arresting officers that you don't have to talk if you don't want to, and anything you say can be entered in evidence, and also that there are no benefits or penalties involved regardless of whether you decide to talk with me or not. The same goes for me, okay?"

Again, Hawthorne nodded. "Okay," he said.

"So, obviously you're aware of why you're here," Wolfram said, "My job is to get a hold of all the facts. Now, I've been doing this a very long time, and I know there are always two sides to every story, so I want to get to know your side of things."

Hawthorne swallowed and looked down for an instant, then stared at Wolfram as resolution returned to his face, "The duty lawyer said I shouldn't—"

"That's all between you and your lawyer; I don't want to know about it," Wolfram interjected with a wave of his hand, "I can see that you understand your right to silence, and that's really good, I'm glad of that. By the way, are you thirsty? I only brought one water in here; you just have mine." He reached over and held out the bottle to Hawthorne, letting it hover in the air for several seconds before the coyote hesitantly took it. A good sign.

"So, anyway, I've got to be perfectly honest with you, Jonah – do you mind if I call you Jonah?" Wolfram asked, "No? Okay, good. Jonah, I'm gonna tell you that regardless of what you say in here, there's not a chance you're going to walk on this one. We've got you all over surveillance video, we've got your prints, we've got everything. But you know, I was checking over the file, and I saw your photo. I just felt like maybe there was something different about you. Your two buddies there, they're cold blooded, heartless killers, but you...I'm not so sure. But I've got a cop fighting for his life with a bullet through his chest; he might not make it. I'll tell you, most of the guys around here just want to throw the book at you and call it a day, but like I said, I think there's something more to this story."

Hawthorne looked down at the water bottle in his hands, unscrewed the cap and took a long swig. He kept his head down, looking at his paws, for some time. Wolfram sat motionless, studying him intently.

"Is...there a chance that cop might make it…?" he asked finally.

"His name is Nick Wilde, and I guess there's always a chance. But what if he doesn't? Do you really need it on your conscience that you could have helped catch his murderer, and you didn't? Nick is a fellow canine, Jonah...so am I. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't want that on my head, you know?"

"I...I didn't shoot him!" Jonah protested.

"I know you didn't, but you sure as hell tried. More importantly, you know who did, Jonah..." Wolfram said, subtly rolling his chair closer and closing the gap between them, "I saw the grin on his face... _he was enjoying it_. Whoever this guy is, he's one sick puppy...are you just like him? I really don't want to believe that..."

"No!" Jonah said, raising his paws emphatically, "I swear, I never wanted to hurt anyone, it was supposed to be a quick job, in and out, no shooting—that's what he said."

"Really? So why the hardware, then?" Wolfram asked, looking incredulous.

"A show of force, he said – if the cops or anyone else showed, we could pin em down and beat it."

"Clearly that isn't what he really had in mind, given what he did," Wolfram said. He moved a little closer, lowering his voice, "Did you realize, Jonah, that Nick would have been justified in shooting you dead, but he risked his own life to take you alive? Then he put his life on the line to save his partner. Your sicko boss—who, by the way, hung _you_ out to dry—was trying to kill his partner; Nick took the bullet for her."

Jonah's eyes widened at that, and he remained silent for several moments. Wolfram stared relentlessly; he could see the indecision, the scales in Jonah's mind that weighed the choice whether to talk or not.

The coyote's shoulders slumped and he looked down, "I'm sorry...I really am...I never wanted this."

"Then do the right thing, Jonah, and tell me his name."

"I... _I can't!_ " Jonah said at last, looking up at Eli with sheer terror in his eyes. His paws were trembling, "You don't understand... _he's a monster._..he'll kill me... _I've already said too much!_ "

Wolfram furrowed his brow, moving forward and placing his paw over Jonah's trembling arm; according to the background investigation, the coyote had served in the military, seen combat, yet he was trembling in fear and practically having a nervous breakdown. "We can protect you, Jonah! I know you want to do the right thing..." he said, giving a gentle squeeze.

Jonah shook his head, his eyes still wide with terror as he pulled back, "No! Even if you could protect me, you can't protect my family, my friends! You can't protect everyone…and he will kill _everyone_ just to punish me...we're done talking! I ain't saying another word. _I'm sorry!_ " He physically picked up his chair and pulled it back into the corner of the room, as far from Wolfram as he could manage.

The detective stood and regarded Jonah for a moment before shaking his head and moving to knock on the door. "We're done here," he said tersely.

After a moment, the door opened and Grizzoli entered, cuffing Jonah again and escorting him out. Just before leaving, however, the coyote locked eyes with Wolfram again. "Be careful," he said, then lowered his gaze and headed out without another word.

Wolfram growled in his throat, moving to the table and scooping up the file. He strode out of the room, moving to the next door down, which housed the observation room separated from the interview room by a two way mirror. He rapped on the door sharply and Mundi opened it, his squat, round shouldered form stepping into the hall. He looked up at his partner with a bemused smirk. "Huh, that sure went well," he said with a shrug.

Wolfram frowned at him. "Smoke with me, Mundi," he said, strolling past him toward the exit and dropping the file on his desk on the way out.

They stepped out onto the veranda on the west side of the building, moving to the railing and looking out over the twilight descending on the city. Already the lights were beginning to blaze to life in the skyscrapers of the downtown core as the last brush strokes of the sunset faded from the sky. Wolfram pulled out a cigarette and struck his lighter, puffing it to life before handing the lighter to Mundi. The coati pulled a pre-cut cigar from his coat pocket, lighting it and blowing a billowing cloud of acrid smoke into the cool evening air.

"It's a damned ugly business this time, Eli," Mundi said casually, watching the wisps from his cigar dissipate into the evening breeze.

"It's always a damned ugly business for us...but you're right, these are murky waters we're wading into," Wolfram said, leaning his back against the railing and taking a long drag on his cigarette, "Something spooked Hawthorne so bad he couldn't bring himself to tell me who the shooter was, even though he wanted to…he was on the brink of saying it, but sheer mortal terror held him back. I've never seen anyone so paralyzed by fear before."

Mundi glanced at him, "Didn't you say he's been in combat?"

Wolfram nodded, stroking his chin with his index finger, eyes staring as he wandered through the tangled paths of his own thoughts. "According to his service record, he was an exemplary soldier, saw combat more than once and always handled himself admirably...so who or what could spook him so badly?"

Mundi shrugged, scratched his head and puffed his cigar again. "I managed to finish interviewing the lab staff, including the director...an okapi named Obi Manyara. Interesting fellow...highly paranoid, arrogant, but very intelligent. He likes the industrial espionage theory. Turns out that the silent alarm Hawthorne and his buddies tripped was a secret."

Wolfram perked a brow and glanced at Mundi, "A secret?"

"Apparently Mr. Manyara doesn't trust his staff," Mundi said, rolling his cigar between his fingertips, "In addition to the main security system that the lab staff are aware of, he also had a secret alarm installed within the facility, protecting certain sensitive areas, which he can remotely activate."

"What else did you find out?"

Mundi rubbed the back of his neck, stretching it from side to side, "Last employee working that evening was one Doctor Marco Hornady, PHD. He's a pronghorn antelope. Nervous guy by nature, apparently. Very soft spoken and unassuming, but obviously a smart one. He stated he was working late on a project and must have forgotten to activate the alarm before he left."

"I suppose he just happened to leave the back door unlocked as well?"

Mundi shrugged and sighed, blowing out a billow of acrid cigar smoke, "Camera coverage is spotty in that area. Could have been him, but nothing conclusive to show who it was. Maybe it was unlocked for days before this, who knows? Anyway, he claims total ignorance of the situation and says it was an honest mistake forgetting to set the alarm."

Wolfram set his jaw, taking the last few drags on his cigarette before crushing it out in the nearby standing ash tray. "A little too convenient, if you ask me." Wolfram said, crossing his arms. He regarded Mundi with a tilt of his head and a flick of his ear, "What do you make of him?"

A knowing smirk crept across Mundi's slender muzzle, slightly deepening the creases at the corners of his eyes, "He's hiding something. Best we follow up on it."

Wolfram nodded, then stretched his arms high above his head, making himself look absurdly tall and lanky. He yawned, his maw gaping, then scratched the back of his head, "I seriously hope you don't mean tonight, Lieutenant..."

Mundi shook his head, moving to the ash tray and crushing out his cigar, "No. We're going to need plenty of rest for this one...sooner or later it's taking a turn for the worse; I can feel it."

Wolfram thrust his paws into his trouser pockets with a grim look on his face; he'd worked with the Lieutenant long enough to know he was rarely ever wrong. They strolled back into the office together without another word, shutting out the darkness at least for the time being.

-~x0x~-

Three days later, Judy jumped into her cruiser at the station and buckled her seat belt, preparing to roll out for the morning patrol. She glanced at the vacant seat beside her, an empty feeling tinged with bitterness rising in her gut; she had learned at the morning briefing that Jonah Hawthorne, the coyote Nick arrested at the lab, had been freed on bail pending his arraignment. For the life of her, she couldn't fathom where a lowlife like that managed to get ten thousand dollars together. With a sharp sigh, she shook it off and rolled out of the vehicle yard.

It was a quiet spring morning, the dappled sunlight dancing over the pavement as Judy rolled through Savannah Central at a leisurely pace. She rolled down the window and slung her arm over the door, musing over the comings and goings of various mammals on the sidewalks and parkways.

It struck her as odd, somehow, that everything simply continued as normal despite the fact of her own life being, for the moment, completely turned upside down. There was little happening this morning and she was nearing the edge of Central where the road forked to enter either the Rainforest District or the Canal District, so she resolved to stop in for a coffee before continuing on.

Rolling the cruiser to a stop in front of the red cedar slabbed coffee hut, she jumped out and greeted the horse behind the counter with a friendly wave.

He grinned and waved back, reaching for the coffee pot. "The usual this morning, Officer Hopps?" he said, pouring the rich, hot liquid into a disposable cup and stirring in cream, sugar and a dollop of maple syrup.

"Well...almost," she said with a half smile.

A sympathetic look crossed his face and he reached for the pot again, grabbing another cup from the shelf beside the window. "Here," he said, raising the cup, "Take this to Officer Wilde for me; tell him I said get well soon."

She had the cash for her coffee in hand and was about to thank him for thinking of Nick when dispatch suddenly broke in over the radio.

_Any available units, we have a report of a mammal down near the edge of Canal District – the old brick works at Harbour Street_

Judy keyed her mic, "Dispatch, Bravo-Six, I'm almost there already; on it."

_Ten four, Bravo Six, switch to channel four_

"Bravo-six, ten four," Judy replied. She bounded up and slapped down a five note on the counter, grabbing her coffee at the same moment. "I'll have to take a rain cheque for Nick!" she called over her shoulder as she darted for the car.

Inside of ten minutes she rolled into the old brick yard, lights and sirens blaring, and screeched to a halt just inside the front gate. She flung off her seat belt and bounded out of the car, immediately scanning the area for any possible threat.

It was a large open industrial yard with a ramshackle factory dating to the turn of the last century standing on the south west corner. Beyond the yard, decrepit piers and docks floated over the placid waters of the western inner harbour. The factory had been condemned years before, long disused and slowly crumbling away. A bright yellow sign warned that the site was slated for demolition and admonished trespassers to stay away. As she scanned the rubble and rusted metal that littered the yard, her eyes fell on a dark heap laying at the edge of the seawall.

"Dispatch, this is Bravo-Six, something near the water over here. Could be a mammal in need of assistance; checking it out."

_Ten four, proceed with caution._

Slowly she crept up on the motionless form, scanning the area periodically to make sure she wasn't walking into an ambush. She drew closer and saw that it was black plastic sheeting material covering something. A few more steps and she knew what it was; a tawny prick ear tinged with gray protruded from the black material along with a motionless paw. She dashed up and knelt down.

It was the body of a young coyote dressed in tattered jeans and a gray hoodie, his body evidently wrapped in the black sheeting and dumped. There was a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead, and most of the back of his head was a gaping, bloody mess. She resisted the urge to wretch, examining the coyote more closely. Suddenly she felt a sickly realization rising in her mind as she saw the lifeless, staring, ice-blue eyes.

She swallowed hard, drawing back and rising to a stand. With a trembling paw she keyed her mic, "Dispatch, Bravo-Six...send Zooicide...it's Jonah Hawthorne; he's been murdered."


	5. Chapter 5

The pavement shimmered with mirage and the shadows had all but vanished by the time Judy returned to the crime scene. At Wolfram's behest, she had spent the morning canvassing the neighborhood for any security camera footage or eyewitnesses that might offer leads in the case. Although there were no witnesses, there were a few cameras whose footage might be useful. She had also taken the time to write detailed notes, including a sketch map showing the relative locations of the cameras, and had cross referenced them against the DVD's so it would be clear which camera each disk belonged to. _All in all, not a bad morning's work_ , she thought.

She parked the cruiser next to the decaying wall of the brick works and jumped out, her grocery bag full of DVD's in paw. She strolled up to where Mundi and Wolfram were standing. The latter, wearing dark shades that completely hid his eyes, had shed his sport-coat, revealing that he wore a black leather shoulder holster with a forty five caliber pistol and spare magazines over his dress shirt. He had also rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, exposing his long, black furred forearms. Mundi, despite the warm weather, was still wearing his rumpled khaki trench coat.

Wolfram was chatting quietly to Mundi when Judy arrived, but he quickly turned his attention to her. "What did you dig up, Hopps?" he asked, his manner less gruff than during their first encounter.

She held up the bag. "Got a bunch of footage from various security cameras around the area," she said, "Nothing too conclusive from what I've seen, but I didn't have time to preview everything, of course. I sketched a map and noted the locations where all the footage came from. It's in my notebook."

A brow peaked above the rim of his sunglasses and Wolfram nodded approvingly. "Good work," he said, "If you wouldn't mind, it would help us out if you could transport that evidence back to the station and log it in. We need a certified copy of your notes as well."

She nodded. "Sure thing, Detective," she said, turning and heading back to the car.

"Oh, ahh, just one more thing..." Mundi piped up, "If you're interested, Eli and I wouldn't mind having your observations of our victim here. Everything's been documented and the coroner's service is on the way, so don't worry about disturbing anything. Just wear your gloves...you don't want to get any of this mess in your fur."

She turned on her heel when Mundi spoke, glancing between the two of them. She paused for a moment, looking at Hawthorne's corpse. "All right, if you want," she said at length, approaching the body again and donning nitrile gloves she had pulled from a pouch on her duty belt.

Kneeling near the head, she made a careful study of the body; the plastic sheet had been removed, exposing the entire length. She moved closer, bringing her nose close to the side of his muzzle. She gently poked at the bottom of the jaw, finding it unyielding. Her nose twitched a few times, then she scooted down the body, moving sideways in a crouch, her eyes intensely studying every inch of the limbs. She nudged the arm and wrist, which were likewise stiff. Finally, she came to the footpaws. She stood up and took a step back, gazing wordlessly over the entire form for a few moments.

Wolfram and Mundi glanced at each other. Wolfram crossed his arms over his chest and watched her.

"He's been dead probably ten to twelve hours, as _rigor mortis_ is pretty much completely set in. Ligature marks on the wrists, ankles and rope burns on the shirt and thighs suggests he was tied up, perhaps tied to a chair," she said, intently focused on the body as she spoke, "His footpaws and ankles have been crushed, his shins broken, knees, paws, wrists, arms...pretty much everything smashed with something very heavy, maybe a sledgehammer? Judging by the swelling and deformation at the lower limbs and the lack of it higher up, it looks like someone worked this guy over starting at the bottom and going up..."

She frowned, a look of disgust passing over her face as she continued, "His muzzle was bound with tape...there are some bits of the adhesive stuck in his fur, and the tape took some fur with it when it was removed, but it was removed _before_ he was killed; there's blood from the gunshot wound in the area that the tape would have covered. He has some severe contusions on his face and his jaw seems to be dislocated, like he was struck, probably with the same instrument that caused the other injuries..."

Wolfram's lips curled into a slight smile as he stroked his chin thoughtfully. Mundi nodded, watching Judy with keen interest. "Please, continue," he said.

"So...the bullet hole is pretty big, and there's powder residue all over the face, suggesting a large caliber at close range...perhaps the same revolver Nick was shot with. Oh! And of course he was killed elsewhere and dumped here later, as there's virtually no blood on the ground around the body, despite the nasty injuries..." she said, turning to the detectives, "How did I do?"

Wolfram stared at her for a moment before uncrossing his arms and clapping his paws a few times, a faint smile crossing his muzzle. "Bravo, Hopps...well done."

"Very impressive!" Mundi added with his usual jovial smile, "I hope you don't mind, but I thought I would put your observation and reasoning skills to the test a bit. You'll make Detective in no time if you keep that up!"

Judy clutched her left elbow with her right paw, casting a troubled glance at the body before turning back to Wolfram. "One thing I don't understand," she said, "Why remove the tape before shooting him?"

Wolfram thrust his paws into his pockets, and though it was hard to tell from behind his dark glasses, it seemed as though a pained expression briefly crossed his features. "Simple," he said, "The sick son of a bitch wanted to hear him beg for his life."

"That's...that's _horrible_..." Judy said, glancing at Hawthorne's body, "What kind of a monster..." She trailed off, looking away at the sunlight shimmering on the water beyond the seawall for a moment.

A look of sudden realization crossed her face and she smacked a fist into her palm, looking back at Wolfram, "Hey, I just remembered something! Nick wasn't sure about this, but when he woke up the other day, he asked me if I heard the shooter say anything right before he fired. I didn't, but Nick seemed to have the impression that maybe the shooter knew him and was trying to kill me in order to hurt Nick."

Wolfram scowled in annoyance, "You're only just now telling us this?"

"I'm sorry, it slipped my mind! Nick wasn't even sure if it was real, or if he just imagined it," she said, her ears dropping behind her back in embarrassment, "It may be nothing...I just thought I should mention it, just in case."

The detective sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, stretching out the kinks as he did. "Ahh, all right, thanks for the tip anyway," he said, thrusting his paws into his pockets again, "Good work today. We'll maybe catch up with you back at the office later."

Judy nodded and turned toward the car, casting a final wave at them before jumping into the cruiser and driving off.

Mundi smirked, glancing at his partner, "I'm thinking Officer Hopps is growing you, Eli."

Wolfram merely frowned and pulled out a cigarette.

-~x0x~-

It was well past two by the time Judy finished logging in all the exhibits at the central evidence lockup. She glanced at the clock and realized she hadn't eaten a thing since breakfast. Waving goodbye to the bluebuck working the evidence counter, she headed upstairs toward the front entrance.

She had just resolved to stop by the hospital and visit Nick over her lunch break when she heard a commotion coming from Clawhauser's desk.

"—Listen, you doughnut chomping chump! I'm a full grown mammal; I've been friends with Nick since we were kids, and if someone doesn't start tellin' me where he is, _I'm gonna lose it!_ " said a familiar, gravelly bass voice.

Judy hurried to the desk to find Finnick standing on it, sneering angrily at a horrified Clawhauser, his large ears flattened straight back. Clawhauser, wide eyed, was holding a doughnut box as an improvised shield and trying to placate the angry fennec fox by stammering something about him having a youthful and vigorous appearance.

She called his name, and he whirled on his heel and barked, _"WHAT?!"_ When he saw it was her, however, his manner changed and a relieved expression took over his features. He jumped down from the counter and strode up to her, "Judy! Finally, someone around here who'll give me a straight answer!"

Judy glanced over Finnick's shoulder to see Clawhauser holding the PA system handset and pointing at it, looking utterly aghast, and mouthing, " _Backup?_ " She gave a quick shake of her head and put on her best smile for Finnick. "Hey! Yeah, what can I do for you?" she asked, trying to look relaxed and ignore the dozens of staff and members of the public who were staring at them.

"How about telling me what the hell is going on with Nick?" Finnick said with an exasperated wave of his paws, "I see on the news a few days ago that he got shot, I don't hear nothin' else, and I get no answer on his phone. For all I know, he's dead!"

"No, no, he's fine, really," Judy said, raising her paws, "His phone was on his belt and it hasn't been released from evidence yet. I was just on my way to visit him; want to come with?"

Finnick glanced around, his characteristic sneer returning to his muzzle, "Yeah, sure thing; this place cramps my style."

That settled the issue, and together they walked out the front door toward Judy's cruiser. Finnick grinned as the door opened and he and climbed into the passenger seat. "Ha! Ain't never been in the front of one of these things before..." he said, snapping out his shades and slipping them on.

Judy smirked at that, buckling up and rolling out of the yard onto the street passing in front of the station. "Nick's at Zootopia General," she said, "We'll pop through McBuggos and get him something on the way."

"What?!" Finnick exclaimed, "I checked there first; they told me he wasn't there!"

"The Chief ordered a 'do not announce' on him – they weren't allowed to tell you."

"Damn," Finnick said, "Ah well, it is what it is." He turned his gaze out the side window. "So, what happened out there?" he asked at length, his voice slightly hushed as he continued to stare at the scenery.

Judy's grip on the wheel tightened; she had relived those moments in her mind's eye more times than she wanted to already. "It started out as a silent alarm call. Nick took a bullet for me. Saved my life," she said, unable to keep her voice from sounding clipped.

Finnick glanced at her, his eyebrows rising above the rim of his sunglasses for a moment before he looked back out the window again. "Somehow, that doesn't surprise me," he said, not bothering to elaborate. "Did you catch the guy?" he asked, changing tack.

Judy shook her head, "No real leads yet. We have some of our best detectives on the case, though."

Finnick snorted, "Yeah, well, all the same I'll keep my ear to the ground, see if the word gets out on the street who did it."

Judy perked a brow, glancing at him, "I thought you went straight, Finnick..."

" _I did,_ " he said sharply, "I'm a legitimate businessmammal now. But owning a limo, you get to hear a lot of the talk around the town; plus, just cuz I don't hustle no more doesn't mean I don't still get to talking with the old boys now and then, you know? Someone'll blab and it'll get around. I'll let you know."

"Thanks," she said, "It's good to know someone else is in Nick's corner these days."

Finnick glanced at her, but said nothing further until they had reached the door to Nick's room. They entered, finding him standing at the open window, one paw wrapped around his IV pole, the other clasped in a fist at the small of his back, the wind playing through his fur. Judy chuckled at the image; unable to adopt his characteristic paw-in-pocket stance, he wound up looking like a hospital-gowned admiral on the deck of a tall ship.

Her quiet laughter brought an instant smile to his face and he turned toward them, "Carrots! Oh, and Fin! How ya keepin' buddy?"

Finnick smirked, "Better than you, looks like. You don't think maybe when you get shot you better let your old pal Fin know you're not dead?"

Nick chuckled, looking chagrined, "Eh, yeah, sorry about that...my phone's in lockup and I've had my mind on other things lately, I guess."

Finnick crossed his arms, "Yeah, well—they treatin' you all right in here?"

Nick grinned. "Well, the food's awful...speaking of which!" he said, noticing the bag which Judy then held out to him. "Thanks, Carrots! – other than that, can't complain. Just wish I could be back out there." He scooted over to his bed, plunking himself down and practically tearing open the bag in his eagerness.

"You sure you should be in such a rush to get back to work, Nick?" Finnick asked, perking a brow.

Nick hungrily chomped into his buggo burger, chewing and swallowing before he answered, "What do you mean? It's my job." He took another huge bite, washing it down with a swig of soda.

Finnick sighed, "I'm just sayin', you ain't the most popular guy in this town, Nick. Maybe this dude was someone with a score to settle..."

"Oh, come on!" Nick said, his mouth half full of burger, "I don't think I've pissed off anyone enough to want to kill me!"

Finnick regarded him incredulously, "What about the skunk-butt-rug?"

Nick waved a paw dismissively, "Resolved ages ago; you know that."

" _Point is,_ " Finnick said, "Maybe you best lay low – skip town for a while, dig? I'll let you know if I hear anything."

Nick took a long drag on his soda straw, then set it aside. "Forget it, Fin!" he said hotly, " _No way_ I'm leaving my partner on her own. Besides, I knew the risks when I signed up. Just because I took a hit doesn't mean I can just scamper off and hide."

"Feh!" Finnick sneered, "Spoken like a true copper. They really got under your fur, huh, Nick? – bet you bleedin' blue these days." He sighed, crossing his arms and averting his gaze to the window, "Just watch it when you get back out there."

Nick smirked, leaning forward and regarding his friend with half lidded eyes, "Why Fin, I never knew you cared so much..."

Finnick was about to blurt out an angry retort when a knock at the door interrupted him and they turned to see the tall, lanky form of Detective Wolfram slip into the room. He paused, paws buried in his pockets, and regarded the group dispassionately for a moment before he spoke. "Hope I haven't come at a bad time," he said, casting a mildly suspicious glance at Finnick before turning his eyes on Nick, "Figured it was about time I interviewed you, Officer Wilde."

"Sounds like my cue to beat it," Fin mumbled under his breath. He glanced at Judy, "You mind givin' me a ride back? My van's at the station."

Judy smiled and waved in greeting to Wolfram before looking back to Finnick. "Sure thing!" she said, "I still need to grab something for lunch; I'm starving."

"Let's do shawarma," Finnick said as they vanished out the door.

Wolfram stepped forward, extending his paw in greeting. "Detective Eli Wolfram, Zooicide," he said, shaking Nick's paw.

"Pleasure," Nick said, "Although you'll find that reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated."

Wolfram smiled wryly, grabbing an armchair from the corner of the room and rolling it beside the bed. He sunk his lanky frame into it, leaning back and regarding Nick with his typical penetrating gaze. "It didn't look that way the other night, so they called us in. Now it's our case. I'll tell you, it's turning ugly fast," he said at length, folding his paws in his lap.

"It was pretty ugly from the get-go, from where I was standing," Nick said flatly.

"Naturally," Wolfram said, "By the way, did Hopps mention that the coyote you arrested was murdered last night? Tortured within an inch of his life, probably with a sledgehammer, and then shot in the face."

Nick's eyes widened in surprise at that. He blinked and looked down, furrowing his brow as the implications of that sunk into his mind. "No," he said at length with a shake of his head, "She didn't mention it...I'm sorry to hear that."

Wolfram turned his gaze to the scene outside the window. "Mmm," he said with a contemplative air, "Especially since you risked your life bringing him in alive."

He tapped a finger on the back of his other paw. "She mentioned something to me this afternoon that I found particularly interesting," Wolfram said, returning to his intensive examination of Nick, "She said that you think you may know the shooter."

"Is that so?" Nick said, his brow knitting in consternation, "Because that's not really what I told her."

"Then what exactly _did_ you tell her?"

"I...I said I wasn't sure," Nick said, setting his paws beside him on the bed, "I thought maybe I heard him say my name before he shot me...it might have been a dream, a delusion, something caused by the anesthetic, who knows."

"All he said was your name?" Wolfram asked, entwining his fingers and watching Nick intently.

"I don't know… maybe something more...something about Judy...I can't remember," Nick replied.

"You know, I did some digging on you before I came down here today," Wolfram continued, still studying Nick in his dispassionate, analytical way, "Were you aware we have about thirty five pages on you in the database?"

Anger flashed in Nick's eyes, though he kept a snarl from forming on his muzzle, "I have no criminal record, aside from juvenile, and those records are _sealed_."

"The court records are, but not the Police Intelligence Database entries," Wolfram continued, unfazed, "I didn't even get half way through your file before I had to come here. You have a colourful past, Wilde...mostly running cons and petty stuff nobody could manage to stick on you. It seems plausible that there might be someone out there with an axe to grind, don't you think?"

"Are you accusing me of withholding information, Detective?" Nick asked, unable to keep a hint of a growl from seeping into his voice, "Why the hell would I withold anything, especially if someone is actually out to kill me?"

"If you did, it wouldn't necessarily be deliberate..."

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Nick said, a grimace of pain flashing across his face. He sighed and leaned back into the bed, his fists clenching in the sheets for a moment before relaxing.

Wolfram stood up, moving to the window, thrusting his paws into his pockets and watching the bustling city spread out below for a moment before continuing, "Sometimes, we block out things from our memory as a self-defense mechanism...things too painful or shameful to permit into our conscious thoughts. It's possible there's something you don't remember because your mind doesn't want you to."

"Am I under investigation?" Nick asked sharply, staring at Wolfram's back, "Is that what this is about?"

Wolfram sighed, remaining silent for several seconds as he stared out the window, composing his thoughts. Finally he turned around, meeting Nick's gaze. "Listen, Wilde," he said, "This isn't a witch hunt. You already earned my respect _in blood_. I _know_ you're a good cop."

"But?"

" _But_ what I'm dealing with is a good cop in the hospital with a patched hole in his chest, a dead suspect, and no leads to solving this case," Wolfram said with a shrug, "So if you know _anything_ , you owe it to yourself and your partner to tell me. If it's something you've tried to forget, you don't have the luxury of forgetting anymore."

A long silence intervened as Nick stared at the detective. Finally, he nodded, leaning back into his pillow and closing his eyes. "All right," he said, "If I remember anything, you'll be the first to know."

"That's all I ask," Wolfram said, turning to head toward the door.

"Wolfram," Nick said, opening one eye. The detective paused in the doorway, half turning to look back at him. "I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of...but nothing I couldn't live with. If this really is something so bad that my mind erased it from memory, then do me a favour and keep an eye on Hopps...there's no telling how nasty this is going to get."

Wolfram regarded him with a stoic expression for a moment before nodding and heading out the door.

-~x0x~-

In the week that followed Hawthorne's murder, Nick became increasingly irritable and restless. Often he would be pacing the room when Judy arrived, much to the annoyance of the staff. He would sit with a despondent air and a look of grave concern when Judy would recount the day's adventures at work, as if he was constantly reproaching himself for not being there to back her up. Finally, seven days after the body was discovered, she heard raised voices as she approached Nick's room on a morning visit. She stood just outside the door and listened.

"—Wilde, you haven't recovered sufficiently!"

"It doesn't matter, doc!" Nick said, the tension in his voice obvious, "I've been stuck in here long enough while she's out there alone. I'm going back tomorrow morning. If I fall apart, I guess you'll get me back again."

"If you leave here and the repair fails, you might not live long enough to get back!"

"It...it doesn't..nngh—" Nick said, his voice faltering.

"—you see?!"

" _It doesn't matter!_ " Nick growled through the pain. He panted a few times, then continued, his voice passionate, "When I put on the badge, I _swore an oath._ It's an oath I can't fulfill stuck in thisdamn hospital bed. Come hell or high water, I am not letting down the mammals of this city – especially not my partner."

There was a brief silence, broken when the doctor heaved a sharp sigh. "All right, Officer Wilde," he said, his voice more subdued than before, "I commend your devotion, if not your good sense...just remember what I told you before!"

"Sure thing, Doc!" Nick said; having won his point, the natural joviality in his manner returned almost immediately. Judy had to suppress a chuckle at that.

Realizing the doctor was probably about to walk out, Judy hurriedly pulled out her phone and stuck in her ear buds, feigning that she had been distracted with it as she entered the room. She briefly pretended not to notice Nick and the Doctor standing at the bed, removing her ear buds with a look of surprise, "Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were here, Doctor...should I go?"

It was Doctor Klawsen, Nick's surgeon from the first night he was brought in. Evidently the nursing staff had been so keen to convince Nick to stay that they asked the surgeon himself to intervene. It hadn't been enough.

Klawsen's brow was furrowed as he turned to Judy and regarded her with vibrant yellow eyes. He pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose with a sigh before dropping his paws into his lab coat pockets and managing a half smile, "No, that's quite all right, Officer Hopps. I think your hard-headed friend and I are quite done here. He's all yours. Just be sure you keep him out of trouble – he'll be fragile for a while yet."

He strode from the room with a final sigh and slight shake of his head. Judy watched him go, then turned back to Nick. "What was all that about?" she asked, perking up her ears.

A broad grin spread across Nick's muzzle, "I'm coming back to work tomorrow morning. Bravo-Six will ride again!"

She moved closer, gently resting her paw on his arm and searching his eyes. "Nick, are you _sure_?" she asked, her voice gentle, "You don't have to prove anything to anyone... _you don't have to do this._ "

"Yeah, Carrots, I do," he said, his voice quiet but his eyes resolute, "I know I joke around a lot, but...this isn't just a _job_ to me."

She knew exactly what he meant. His words to the surgeon had come from the same deep, hidden well of conviction that made her want to become a police officer, that made her persist in the face of every adversity even when it seemed like a fool's errand to even try.

There was that, and the hollow ache in her chest every time she saw his empty seat in the squad car. She briefly wondered if they shared that feeling in common as well.

She knew that if she turned on the charm, if she opened her deep purple eyes a little wider, dropped her ears, made her nose quiver just a bit, maybe summoned some tears and spoke _just so_ , she could persuade him to stay. She had begun to realize the sway she held over his heart, how amenable that great heart truly was to her suggestions, and yet it seemed a sin in that moment to use that tender power to turn him away from what he felt was his duty. How could she ask him to deny the passions and convictions of his heart when she shared them herself?

She relented with a pat on his forearm and a smile, "All right, partner, let's get you packed up."


	6. Chapter 6

The soothing coolness of the wet tiles against his forehead and beneath his paws seemed like a balm against the bolt of pain that had ripped through his chest. The hot water streaming over him, his breaths coming in gasps, Nick unclenched his teeth and slowly opened his eyes. He stared down at the black maw of the shower drain as pinkish blood swirled for a moment, then vanished.

His breaths calming, he pushed himself back from the shower wall with one paw while the other cautiously checked the wound in his chest. It was still stitched up tight, as it should be; the discharge was natural, the doctors had told him, as was the pain, especially given how early he'd left the hospital. He turned off the water, then stood fully upright, regarding himself in the small mirror hung from his shower head. He forced himself to put on his most nonchalant smile. After all, he couldn't let Judy see him like this; he wouldn't burden her with his struggle.

He sighed and was about to step out of the shower, when he caught a sudden glimpse of something dark in the mirror, as if something was looming behind him. He whirled on his heel, nearly toppling over in the tub — there was nothing. Only the blank tiled wall met his gaze.

An uneasy chuckle escaped his lips as he shook his head to clear away any trace of the ominous _something_ that wasn't really there. _Just an effect of the pain killers_ , he told himself, though he was only half convinced.

He had decided to go into the office early on his first day back, to allow more time to kit up since it would be a much slower process because of his wound. It was still dark when he boarded the train that would take him to First Precinct; the train was nearly deserted. He sat down alone in the middle of a bank of seats, pulling out his new phone and sticking in his ear buds.

As he pushed play, he mused that he had never much had time for music before. Judy's enthusiasm for it, and her occasional insistence that he share an ear bud and listen, had drawn him in. It had since become a part of his daily commute. Yet another world opened to him by the tender onslaught that was Judy Hopps. He smiled to himself as the soothing melodies filled his head, yet as he lifted his eyes to stare at his reflection in the window across the aisle, something was wrong.

Nick stared long and hard at that dim reflection, searching the faded green eyes that like the eyes of a ghost, kept hidden their secrets. Dark shadows zipped by outside the glass, with his half-reflection superimposed over them, and he began to feel the icy claws of uncertainty scratching at the back of his brain. Something deep within him was stirring, whispering to him that there was something he knew that he didn't remember, something locked away inside his mind, as Wolfram had said.

_...say goodbye..._

_...Nicky..._

Far off whispers of another voice flitting through his mind, the words came back to him. They were ethereal, like wisps of breath on a winter morning that slipped through his fingers and vanished no matter how hard he tried to grasp them. _He knew something._ The feeling rose again in the back of his mind. He knew something he couldn't remember. With that sense came another feeling, a formless kind of dread that clutched at him. He changed the track on his phone to "Try Everything" and forced himself to focus on the memory of dancing with Judy at Gazelle's concert, a memory that never failed to warm him.

Nick arrived at the station before any of the other males on his shift, for which he was grateful. It was a serious struggle to get his duty belt and vest on, but he managed it without crying out in pain at least. He paused in front of the mirror, running his thumb over the gleaming surface of the replacement badge they had issued him. It was in every respect identical to the one he'd lost, save one: it wasn't the badge that Judy pinned on his chest on graduation day. He set it in place over his heart, hoping it wouldn't be called on to deflect any bullets.

Finally he moved to the gun lockers and took out his pistol and magazines. He cleared his pistol, then checked each magazine, ensuring all the rounds were properly seated before stowing them in his mag pouches. He held the gun in his paw for a moment, looking over its dark surface, squeezing the grip and feeling the weight. _If it came down to it this time, he wouldn't miss._

He rammed the magazine home, racked the slide, then gently pulled it back to prove to himself there was a round in the chamber. Satisfied he was loaded and ready, he holstered his pistol and exited the locker room.

"Hey, partner!"

Judy's sudden, peppy greeting startled him violently; he jumped back, flailing his arms before finally recovering his bearing. Judy had been standing right outside the males' locker room, two cups of Snarlbucks clasped in her paws, one of which she held out to him with a broad smile. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, then took the cup from her paw, his brow furrowed, "You scared the crap out of me, Carrots! What the heck are you doing here?"

She knit her brows, tilting her head slightly, "Uhhhh, working? Same as you?"

"No, I know that, _obviously!_ " he said, waving his paw in a peevish gesture, "I mean what are you doing here _so early?_ "

"Same… _as you?_ " she said again, pursing her lips and regarding him as if he may perhaps have lost his mind.

He frowned at her, dropping his free arm to his side. "Yeah, but how...did...you..." he began, then faltered and changed his mind, "Oh, forget it...let's head to the briefing."

She beamed at him, tapping the rim of her cup against his before turning to head toward the bullpen. Nick rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee, which as always was just right, and fell in step beside her.

Having arrived in the briefing room, Judy bounded up onto their usual chair, setting down her coffee and giving Nick a paw up. He gritted his teeth and pulled himself into it, sitting down next to her with a quiet sigh.

When he took a sip of his coffee, however, he noticed she was watching him with deeply knitted brows, her lips a taut line. He glanced at her, perking a brow.

"Are you sure you're okay, Nick?" she asked softly. Other officers had begun slowly filing into the room, filling up their usual seats. She hushed her voice further and added, "It's not too late to take sick leave."

"Naw, I'm fine," he said, taking another long, appreciative sip of coffee before adding, "You worry too much."

They fell easily into familiar banter as the room filled up around them, until finally Chief Bogo took his place behind the podium up front. He put on his reading glasses, then glanced over the rims at Nick and Judy before returning to flipping through his papers. It was some minutes before he spoke.

"All right, shut it! _Sit down!_ " he said sharply, then added with a glance at Nick, "Good to see you're still not dead, Wilde."

"I know, police funerals are so expensive, right?" Nick said with a wry grin.

"Shut your face, Wilde," the Chief retorted flatly before carrying on with his briefing.

Each team in turn were given their assignments and filed out of the room, until only Nick and Judy were left. He waited until the door was shut before addressing them.

"All right, Hopps and Wilde, listen up," he said, glancing over the last file jacket in his hand, "We don't have much to go on, but we're getting information that suggests there's a new drug on the streets. We've had a spike in overdoses lately, and the ones that live long enough to make it to hospital are showing unusual symptoms that don't exactly match with known drug profiles. We've been trying to get intel from our contacts, but so far we're coming up pretty much blank – no idea what this thing is, how wide spread it is, or where it's coming from. Wilde, I'm thinking you have contacts we don't. Think you can sniff out some leads on this for us?"

"Sure thing, Chief," he said, preparing to hop down from his chair.

"One more thing," Bogo added, "No high risk calls for you two this block. No armed robberies, car chases or shots fired calls – I don't need you killing yourself on your first rotation back."

"Sir, I'm—"

" _That's not a request, Wilde!_ " Bogo snapped, turning to head to the door, "This is the highest priority case on my desk right now, and you don't need any distractions."

With that, he exited and slammed the door behind him.

" _Nick,_ " Judy said, disapproval painted all over her face, "Are you ever going to stop antagonizing the Chief? Seriously!"

Nick shrugged, slipping his paw into his pocket and strolling toward the door, "He makes it so _easy!_ "

A few minutes later they strolled into the vehicle yard, headed for their cruiser. It was easy to spot, because it was always impeccably clean. Judy's high standard of professionalism demanded that her vehicle, like her uniform, must be spotless for each shift. Judy hit the door poppers and the front doors swung open. She was about to head for the driver's seat when Nick's voice stopped her.

"Hey, mind letting me drive today, Carrots?"

She turned and looked at him for a moment in surprise; he had never asked to drive before, which in retrospect she found odd. She shrugged and tossed him the keys, which he deftly snagged in flight, and jumped up into the passenger seat.

Nick climbed into the driver's seat with a broad grin plastered across his muzzle. He flicked out his aviator shades and slipped them on. He turned to Judy, who was just getting settled into her seat. "Better buckle up, sweetheart!" he said with a roguish waggle of his eyebrows, "You're in for a bumpy ride!"

She rolled her eyes and frowned at him, "I'd better not be, Nick! You don't need to be breaking the vehicle regs on your first day back." She clicked her seat belt, snugging it up just in case. She noticed the seat was tinged with his scent and she found herself unconsciously nestling a little deeper into the backrest.

He answered with a throaty chuckle, cranking the key and bringing the big V8 to rumbling life. "Ah, just having some fun with you, Carrots..." he said airily, "But you are in for a few surprises today."

He rolled out of the yard and headed in the opposite direction of the area of concern indicated on the case file. Judy glanced back over her shoulder, "Uhh, didn't you mean to head that way?"

Nick replied with a knowing smirk, deftly guiding the cruiser through traffic, "Naw, we can check that out later if there's time. I've got something better in mind."

She furrowed her brow and gave him an incredulous look, "What, are you playing hookie now too?"

He glanced at her with a smug smile and half lidded eyes. "You want information," he said, raising his index finger from the wheel to emphasize his point, "You go to someone who buys and sells it for a living. We're going to see a couple guys I know in the Nocturnal District"

Judy's ears perked up and she looked at him, her nose twitching rapidly a few times, "Oh! I've never been there...I keep meaning to visit, but I've never gotten around to it. Aren't foxes technically nocturnal?"

Nick nodded, guiding the car around another turn, then quickly zipping through an alley as a short cut. "Yeah, technically, but like me, most of us go diurnal for practical reasons," he said, "A lot of nocturnal mammals do that here...raccoons, beavers, coyotes, that sort – eventually you just get used to being awake in the daytime and sleeping at night. No big deal. These guys are 'too nocturnal' for that."

She perked a brow at that, "Too nocturnal?"

He nodded with a faint grin, "Too hard to explain. You'll see soon enough." He rounded another corner and splayed his fingers on the wheel in an expression of delight, "Aha! No lines, no waiting today."

Judy followed Nick's gaze out the windshield to find that they had arrived at what looked like a gigantic industrial box crane mounted into the ground. There were two conjoined rectangular steel frames, each with a motor system on top. Within each frame was a steel mesh cage with a heavy gauge diamond plate floor. The roadway split into two, with one lane going to each folding door. In front of the apparatus on the left side was a small booth staffed by a painfully bored looking raccoon reading a newspaper.

Nick rolled up to the booth and flashed his typical roguish smile, "Hey, how goes it? Official police business; we're headed down."

The raccoon raised his eyes just above his paper and regarded them placidly for a few moments. "All righty, go ahead. Make sure to set your parking brake and remain within the vehicle until the deck reaches bottom and the light turns green," he said, delivering the spiel in a lifeless monotone.

"Sure thing!" Nick said, his tone remaining entirely unaffected by the apathetic lift operator, "Don't work too hard in there!"

The raccoon cast another annoyed glance over his newspaper and tapped a button on his console. The large gates in front of them slid open and Nick steered the cruiser into the middle of the deck. Moments later, the cage door shut behind them and the light mounted on the frame in front of them turned from green to red.

"Welcome to the Vertiferry," Nick said, tugging the parking brake on and leaning back in his seat. Languidness overtook his whole form and he tucked his paws behind his head, "So, you've never been to the Nocturnal District, huh? I think you're in for a treat."

There was a sudden jolt and the car was filled with the deep mechanical hum of heavy machinery as the lift began to descend, quickly enveloping them in darkness.

The diffuse glow of the instrument panel cast a red aura over Nick's motionless form, reflecting in the lenses of his aviators. There was a lull before he spoke, "You know I haven't forgotten about our date, Carrots."

She emitted a faint gasp that she hoped was swallowed by the droning of the lift motors. Three steady breaths interceded before she answered, "...Neither have I."

He half turned his head to cast a sidelong glance at her; she was shrouded in darkness, her eyes impossible to see. "That isn't acceptance of the offer," he said, his voice low and measured.

He could just make out the movement of her lips as she smiled. Somehow in this darkness, with no distractions or diversions to interfere, she seemed closer than ever; her scent seemed to envelop him, enticing him with subtle notes he hadn't noticed before. He leaned closer, flicking his ear and directing it at her, silently reminding her that he was waiting for an answer, and she knew full well what answer he wanted.

"Yes," she said at last, her voice low and broken by a swallow before she continued, "Yes, I'll go out with you, Nick."

"Outstanding," he said, leaning back into his seat again and staring out the windshield, "I'll get everything arranged and let you know the details."

"Isn't that a bit pres—" she started to respond, but her words were swallowed up in a gasp as the elevator shot out from the blackness of the enclosed tunnel into the yawning cavern of the Nocturnal District.

They had dropped out of the ceiling of an enormous cave, the floor perhaps hundreds of feet below, and its furthest wall perhaps a mile distant. Dozens of monolithic pillars were interspersed at regular intervals, their surfaces engineered to appear as gigantic trees whose artificial, leafless branches became the support structure for the ceiling.

A vast, artificial sky spread across the cavern roof, complete with millions of blazing stars and even a few wispy clouds projected on its surface. An artificial moon bathed the entire district in a soft, ethereal glow. Spread out below this sky in meandering streets, alleyways, paths and gardens, was a vast city cloaked in shadow and dotted with faint, ghostly lights. Its spires, pointed archways, towers and bridges, wrought in gray, mouldering stone, seemed like something from a dream, a vision out of the past. Judy stared breathlessly, eyes wide, paws pressed against the dashboard as she pushed herself up for a better view.

 _There it is_ , Nick thought; it was the unfettered, genuine expression of wonder on Judy's face that he had grown to appreciate, even to yearn for. Before he met Judy, his own eyes had long since grown indifferent to the wonders around him, but she had an innocence and optimism that let her see the beauty and majesty in things both grand and simple.

As they descended rapidly toward the floor, Judy could make out the silhouettes of a few bats flitting around from roof to roof on their 'nightly' business, as well as the occasional flutter of shadows on the ground level moving through the dim glow of street lamps.

The elevator slowed as it neared the bottom, finally coming to a stop with a loud clatter, the mechanical droning cutting out. There was a brief pause before the light ahead turned green and the cage door folded open. Nick removed his shades and tucked them away into his pocket, taking a quick glance around before firing up the engine and driving down the ramp and onto the street.

"Shouldn't you be using headlights? It's awfully dark down here," Judy remarked, glancing at him. She had been staring out the window in amazement.

Nick shook his head, "Extremely bad manners. They don't like bright lights, for obvious reasons. Your eyes should be fully adjusted soon."

She turned back to the window, peering out at the shadowy alleys and windows lit by dim, pallid light. Dozens of pairs of eyes peered back as the car passed, their eye shine glowing in the darkness as their owners hid themselves out of habit rather than fear. Those denizens of the night who chose not to conceal themselves she saw were dressed in elegant, albeit antiquated style.

The males Judy saw were all dressed in suits and neck ties, most in fedoras, bowlers or other such old fashioned types. A few even wore frock suits with long tails on the coats that swayed as they strolled along the sidewalks. The ladies, likewise, were attired in similar elegance, with long dresses or skirt suits with fancy hats. None of them, however, wore any sort of vibrant colour; most dressed in monochrome, or at most sombre, subdued shades of colour.

"Wow," Judy breathed, mesmerized by the strange, albeit hauntingly beautiful city outside the window, "It's like traveling back in time..."

Nick halted the car to permit a sharply dressed badger in a three piece suit and bowler hat to cross the street. The badger politely tipped his hat when he reached the far side, and Nick turned, heading down a narrower side street. He regarded Judy with a knowing smirk. "It has its charms," he said, "It's impossible to see much of any colour down here, so form and texture become more important."

He pulled the car into a small parking lot surrounded on three sides by a wall of gray brick and wrought iron, the only light being a tall, delicately curved light post with a pendant lamp hanging from the top. "First stop, Hyde Street Bazaar" he said, opening the door and stepping out. Judy followed suit.

"So, did you grow up down here then?" Judy asked, falling in step beside Nick.

He shook his head, pushing open a large wrought iron gate and stepping aside to permit her to enter. "Naw," he said, following her through, "My family has been day dwellers for generations."

They found themselves in a narrow passage flanked by tall brick walls topped with forbidding wrought iron spikes. Not far along, however, this passage opened into a vast walled courtyard, its central feature a large fountain crowned with three entwined stone fish with streams of water gushing from their mouths. The expanse of the courtyard was crowded with numerous stalls and carts laden with goods of every variety: kitchenware, clothing, food, artwork, pottery, textiles, electronics, videos, even candy were all for sale. The market teemed and buzzed with the quiet vibrancy of the night dwelling mammals that meandered among the many stalls.

Nick took hold of Judy's paw, deftly leading her among the crowds toward the far end of the bazaar; it was evident he knew exactly where he wanted to go without needing to browse. He led her to a large pavilion at the back of the yard. Its canvas walls were lined with tables topped with numerous clay jars of various sizes and shapes, all with lids in place. Each jar had a small card set in front of it, though in the dim light Judy couldn't make out the inscriptions on any of them.

In the center of the large pavilion, perched on a tall wooden stool, sat the tawny, round faced form of a young female kinkajou. She was dressed in a simple but elegant black dress with a white bib front and a black ribbon tied in a delicate bow around her neck. The long skirt with its white hem left only her ankles and footpaws visible. Beside her stood an elegantly wrought mahogany spindle table with a tall shank and three clawed feet; a small cash box and a receipt pad with a pen were set on top. She had been engaged in reading a small black volume, but her round ear membranes swiveled and her dark, soulful eyes fixed on nick as he approached. Her lips spread into a broad smile, "Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Nicholas Wilde...it's been a long time."

Nick waved and smiled in greeting, strolling up and holding out his paw. To Judy's shock, the kinkajou placed her paw in his and he promptly bowed to plant a soft kiss on her knuckles. "A pleasure as always, Katherine," he said. Judy glanced from Nick to the shopkeeper, feeling her hackles rising, but she kept her lips sealed for the moment.

The kinkajou's wide eyed gaze shifted to Judy, her broad, inviting smile never fading, "And who might your lovely bunny friend be, Mr. Wilde?"

"This is my partner, the famous Officer Judy Hopps," Nick said with some pride evident in his voice, indicating Judy with a gesture of his paw before slipping both of them into his pockets.

"Nice to meet you," Judy said, stepping up and offering her paw, which Katherine shook in a friendly manner. Katherine's openness and formal way of addressing Nick had managed to assuage some of the pang of reflexive jealousy Judy had felt at the genteel paw kiss. He'd never kissed _her_ knuckles like that...

"We're heading over to see Ayers and Mawmag," Nick said, "So we'll need the usual."

Katherine stifled a chuckle at the mention of the names. "Oh, those two, is it?" she said, poking a thumb back over her shoulder, "Middle table, the big jar on the end and the one next to it. Help yourself!"

Nick nodded politely and strolled to the indicated table. He plucked two paper bags from one end and picked up a large wooden scoop from beside the larger jar. He set aside the lid and dipped the scoop in. Judy, who had been watching him with intense curiosity, suddenly realized she could read the card in front of the jar, having moved closer. It read, "Hissing Cockroaches"

As if on cue, loud hissing began emanating from inside the earthenware jar; Nick deftly scooped a large, skittering mound of the vile insects into the waiting mouth of his paper bag. He quickly rolled it shut, holding it out to Judy without looking back. "Hold this, Carrots," he said, so intent on his task that he didn't see the look of sheer revulsion on her face as she forced herself to take hold of the top of the bag.

"Don't drop it; those suckers are near impossible to catch once they get loose," he said absently, moving along to the next jar and repeating the procedure.

This time, the card read "Grubs" and the scoop came up with a large, glistening, writhing mass of the horrid creatures. Judy's eyes were wide as saucers, her free paw shooting to her muzzle as she forced back a wretch. Nick replaced the lids and scoops, then fished a ten dollar note from his pocket with his free paw. He handed the note to Katherine with a smile, "Keep the change, we're in a hurry!"

The kinkajou chuckled to herself, waving as they departed. "See you around!" she said cheerfully.

Judy stared in horror at the vibrating, faintly hissing paper bag she clutched in her paw as they strolled out of the bazaar. At length, she shot a glance at Nick, her eyes narrowing slightly despite her best efforts to seem nonchalant. "Old girlfriend?" she asked, trying to sound casual but not quite making it.

Nick, who had been strolling along, looking ahead and evidently lost in thought, blinked and looked at her in surprise, "Huh? What? Oh, Katherine? No, no, just an acquaintance."

Judy perked a brow at him, still awkwardly holding out the bag at arms length as she walked. "What was all that paw kissing business then, hmm?" she asked, studying his expression closely.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Told you things are different down here. That's just their way," he said, then something seemed to dawn on him and he glanced at her with a wry smile, "Why, Carrots, are you jealous?"

"No!" she said sharply, looking away, "I was just curious...she seemed awfully happy to see you."

Nick let out a throaty chuckle, "Ah, Katherine's just a sweetheart. She's like that with everyone." He smirked at the look of consternation that flashed over Judy's features, then diverted the conversation by pointing down the street, "See that shop front on the other side of the street, the one with the big wooden sign? That's where we're going."

She narrowed her eyes, straining to peer through the perpetual gloom. "It looks like...a bookstore?" she said, her brows perking as she glanced at him again, "Why are we going to a bookstore?"

"It's not _really_ a bookstore..." Nick said with a wry smile, "And do me a favour; try your best not to let your cop instincts get the better of you. Not everything these two guys are up to is _completely_ above board—oh, nothing really serious, don't worry—just that we don't need to get all badge heavy on them, since we could really use their particular services today..."

"Hence the uh...peace offering?" Judy said, curling her lip in disgust as she looked at the wriggling, faintly hissing bag she held.

"Exactly!" Nick said, "I'm on pretty good terms with these guys, but we _are_ cops, so it doesn't hurt to grease the wheels, now does it?"

They passed beneath the large wooden shingle, which upon closer inspection turned out to be a large book with the inscription "Mawmag & Ayers Booksellers: Home of Tomes." Nick pushed open the door and walked in, holding it for Judy.

They swept into a spacious foyer, its walls lined with dark oak paneled bookshelves all crammed with rows of dusty books. To the left was a large fireplace with a marble mantlepiece and hearth flanked by two plush velvet wing back chairs. There were stacks of books everywhere, piled on the floor, on tables, on counters, even on chairs and stools. To the right as they entered was a large sales counter, its front ornately carved with scenes from various fairy tales and legends. There were several stacks of books piled untidily on the counter and a huge antique brass cash register at one end. The room was lit by several sconces that cast a dim, pale light over everything, filling the room with shadows.

Judy entered cautiously, her gaze slowly scanning each detail. "Seems like nobody's here," she said, her eyes wandering over to the counter with its random piles of books. She moved a bit closer as she noticed a dark mound in the center, almost hidden among the stacks.

Suddenly, two enormous staring eyes snapped open, declaring the dark mound to be a mammal crouched on a stool which stood just behind the counter. Before she could get a clear look at it, the mammal dropped behind the counter and vanished from sight.

"Well! Do my eyes deceive me...of course they don't, how could they...yes, I do believe I have the honor of a visit from my dear friend Mr. Nicholas Wilde..." came a tinny voice from the shadowy area behind the counter, "And, if I am not greatly mistaken, the celebrated Officer Judy Hopps!"

As they watched, the strange little creature wobbled his way out from behind the counter and stepped into the pallid pool of light in front of them. Only slightly shorter than Judy, he was a squat, rotund mammal with a huge head for the compact size of his body. His enormous eyes, looking almost like deep orange dinner plates taking up most of his face, were fixed and staring, the pupils two horizontally oblong black voids in the vastness of his irises. His muzzle was small and tapered, ending in a blunt, smallish pink nose. Two rounded, membranous ears jutted out at slight angles from the sides of his head.

He was dressed in a sharply pressed checked three piece suit of ashen gray with a boldly striped black and white tie. His fingers and toes were long and spidery, the former being wrapped around the front edges of his unbuttoned jacket, giving him a somewhat pompous bearing. He stopped in front of them and blinked each of his massive eyes one at a time, then bowed slightly and offered his paw with its long, slender fingers, to Judy. "Madam," he said, his voice dropping in pitch as he spoke, "I am Carlito Mawmag, the proprietor of this fine establishment."

Judy furtively glanced at Nick, then placed her free paw in his. Long, spidery fingers seemed to knot themselves around her small paw, and he bowed and planted the same sort of genteel kiss to her knuckles that she had seen Nick deliver.

She smiled, cautiously withdrawing her paw at what seemed the right time, not wanting to offend. "Very nice to meet you, sir," she said.

"Yes, yes!" he said, tenting his fingertips and drumming them nervously against each other, "To what do we owe the honor of your visit to our humble establishment?" He glanced from Nick to Judy, except that his eyes remained fixed and his entire head moved. Judy was beginning to get the impression that his eyes actually didn't move in their sockets at all due to their enormity.

"Ugh, will you spare us your banal platitudes, Carlito!" came a deep, resonant voice from the shadows at the back of the store, "It's plainly obvious why they've come... _they want information._ "

There was a faint, rhythmic, rapid tapping and the sound of shuffling feet as a dark figure emerged from another well of inky shadow behind the counter. As he stepped into the pale light of the sconces, they could see he was slightly shorter than Nick, slenderly built with a hunched posture. He had a flattened face with a blunt nose that flared out into large nostrils, two very large black membranous ears, black lips and black furless paws. His eyes were large and pale yellow, though not nearly as large as Carlito's, and were ringed in inky black, giving him the appearance that he hadn't slept in ages. He clutched a large book in his paws, and they could see as he got closer that the sound was coming from his two extremely long and slender middle fingers tapping rapidly on the cover.

His fur was salt and pepper, except his face which was light ashy gray. He was dressed in a black frock coat with matching trousers and vest, a rumpled white shirt with a black ascot spilling out from the turned down collar.

He regarded Judy with his piercing, wide eyed yellow stare for a moment before adding in a bored tone, "I am Dorian Ayers." He carelessly tossed aside his book and held out his paw to Judy, his extra long, skinny finger wiggling slightly in mid air.

Judy swallowed and fought to hide the cringe that wanted to make its way onto her face. She placed her paw in his, expecting the same sort of treatment Carlito had given it. Instead, Dorian scooted a little closer, clasping her paw in both of his and staring at her with his yellow saucer-eyes while his middle fingers tapped rapidly around her wrist for an awkwardly long moment. Her ears shot straight up and a shiver crawled up her spine, but she forced a smile and blinked at him. "Charmed," he said at length, releasing her paw and sweeping back a step.

"Ah, before we get down to business," Nick interjected, holding out his bag, "I didn't want to drop in unannounced without bringing a little token of my appreciation."

At the sight of the bag, Dorian's manner radically changed and a broad grin spread across his blunt muzzle. He wafted over to Nick and plucked the bag from his paw. Parting the opening just slightly, he sniffed it with a look of ecstasy, cupping the bottom of it and giving gentle squeezes. He then rolled it up tightly and poked one of his middle fingers through the bag, fishing out one of the wriggling worms as if his finger was some kind of grub dip stick. He plucked it out and popped it into his mouth, his tongue darting out to lick up every last morsel. "Delectable," he said at last, his broad, unnerving smile remaining in place this time.

"I trust..." Carlito said, turning his head from Dorian to Nick, his huge eyes narrowing to oblong slits, "We shall not have any _official trouble_ from the police department today?"

Nick flashed a roguish grin, "Perish the thought, Carlito. In fact, I brought you a little something too."

The gigantic eyes popped open again, lit up with delight as he saw the bag. "Splendid!" he said, wobbling forward to pluck the bag from Nick's paw with appreciative fingers. "Come right this way, if you please!" He began happily popping the hissing cockroaches into what turned out to be an enormous mouth that spread from ear to ear as he turned to lead them toward the back of the shop. Dorian fell in step behind.

Judy shot Nick a look of panic, as if silently asking him if it was about to get worse; she was now fully aware of exactly what 'too nocturnal' meant. Nick grinned at her and slid his paw around her shoulder, coaxing her onward. They followed the two peculiar night dwellers through a stout oak door into a back room.

In contrast to the dusty, antique atmosphere of the bookshop, this room was consumed by what appeared to be a mountain of electronic equipment. Dozens of monitors and screens of various kinds were piled up, arranged around a series of keyboards, dials and switches. A plush office chair sat in front of the huge machine. Dorian settled himself into the chair with a flourish of his frock coat tail, stretching out his dexterous fingers over the controls briefly, letting them hang in the air.

"So," he said, "What exactly do you wish to know? Perhaps information about your recent...unpleasantness, Mr. Wilde?"

"Well, there's that," Nick said, "But more importantly, we're getting reports of a new drug out on the streets. Mammals are dying, and we have no idea where this thing is coming from. Any leads you could give us would be helpful.

"Ahhh!" Dorian said, "Let me see what the Darknet has to tell me..."

The aye aye took a deep breath, pausing only a moment before his spidery fingers began dancing furiously over the keyboards and switches. His yellow eyes darted rapidly from screen to screen as the whole apparatus seemed to blaze to life, the screens rapidly changing. It was a bewildering, rapid fire flashing of images that neither Judy nor Nick could make the slightest sense of.

The clattering of keys and flashing of screens continued for some minutes before he suddenly stopped, leaning back in his chair and tapping the side of his head with one of his middle fingers. "Intriguing..." he said, "They are calling this new drug 'Harbinger,' and it seems to be very popular with the party goers as well as the street vagrants. It produces a profound, pleasurable euphoria, sometimes with hallucinations, but its after effects can be rather nasty...sometimes fatal, as you know. There are whispers about its being highly addictive as well."

Nick glanced at Dorian, "Anything about where it's coming from or who's selling it?"

"From what I can see, the majority of the dealers seem to be affiliated with a group called Blood Fang Posse...but there's something else..."

More rapid fire typing filled the room. "The Blood Fangs were previously ruled by this mammal," Dorian said, pointing to one of the screens; a picture of a middle aged lynx with a nasty scar over one of his eyes appeared, "Landon Graves. He was known for his businesslike approach to crime...quite willing to use violence, but only if necessary. There are whispers that he disappeared some months ago, and that a new figure is in control of the Blood Fang Posse, though the identity of this individual seems to be a closely guarded secret."

"Interestingly, there have been many disappearances of rival drug dealers as well, the consensus being that they've been brutally murdered...there seems to be a particularly sinister presence in the underworld these days..."

More typing and flashing. "Ahhhhhhhhhh…" Dorian said, suddenly stopping, "Here's a delectable little morsel..."

Judy, who had been frantically scribbling notes as he spoke, looked at him, perking her ears, "What is it?"

"It seems your unfortunate suspect, Mr. Hawthorne, is known to have ties to the Blood Fangs."

The aye aye suddenly whirled in his chair, his posture languid as he rested his head in his paw and regarded them with his yellow gaze. "You are, of course, the professionals...but it seems to me that all these things are connected, don't you think?" he asked, a wry smirk curling his muzzle.

Judy nodded, looking up at Nick to gauge his reaction. She found him staring hard at the picture of Graves, a pained, pensive look on his face.

"Nick, what're you thinking?"

There was a long silence as he merely stared. "I'm thinking," he said, his eyes remaining fixed on the screen, "I really wish I knew why I suddenly have the feeling that I tried to join the Blood Fangs as a kid..."


	7. Chapter 7

Nick was pensive and silent until they had emerged into the brightness at street level. As the elevator deck neared the surface, flooding the squad car with warm spring sunshine, he slipped on his aviators again. Behind the mirrored shields, he at last felt safe enough to speak the turbulent thoughts that had been swimming through his brain since they left the bookshop.

"We need to let Wolfram and Mundi know about this..." he said, his tone measured, as if he was still not completely certain of his own words, "I need to talk to them right away..."

"Nick..." Judy said, glancing at him with furrowed brows, "What is this all about? _You were in a gang?_ "

He furrowed his brow, staring out the windshield, his grip on the wheel tightening. "No! I...I don't _think_ so...I feel like...like I tried to join, and I couldn't – _I wouldn't_..." he said, his voice faltering, "I can't remember! It's like every time I try to pull it from my memory, it slips away..."

"How can you not remember something like that?"

His response was to step on the gas and switch lanes to pass the truck in front of them, his gaze doggedly fixed on the road ahead, his lips set in a grim, taut line. She continued to watch him with those soulful amethyst eyes, sitting just inside his peripheral vision. At last he relented with a sigh as he turned the corner onto the street that ran in front of the precinct. "I don't know, all right?" he said, his voice hushed, his eyes still refusing to meet hers, "I...I feel like I don't know my own mind lately...like maybe I don't know myself anymore... _and it scares me._ "

He pulled the car into their parking spot and slipped the gear lever into park, his gaze dropping. A heartbeat later he felt her paw slip over his arm in a gesture hauntingly similar to the way she reached out to him that night in the cable car. She gave a gentle squeeze, the reassurance of her touch finally drawing his gaze to meet hers. "It's okay, Nick," she said with a faint smile, "We'll work it out together."

He heaved a deep sigh, a confused rush of emotions brought forth by her touch and her words. It wasn't the time, though, and so he choked it down and turned from her, opening the squad car door. "I'm going upstairs to Zooicide. Maybe go do some sniffing around in the neighborhood of the known OD's and see what you can find out, okay?" he said, pausing half way out, but not daring to look back for fear his face would betray his turbid emotional state, "I'll call you as soon as I'm done and we can go on the hunt for some dope dealers."

She nodded, scooting over to the driver's seat. "Okay, Nick," she said, "See you soon."

Zooicide was on the west side of the building on the third floor, encompassing a sprawling wing consisting of a central cluster of cubicles ringed by various offices, interview rooms, a kitchen, lounge and a break room. Although a relatively small unit in terms of numbers, the division held some of the most respected officers on the force. Nick pushed open one of the double doors, strolling inside and trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

Most of the detectives were far too busy to even notice his passing, but when a gray horse with a black buzz cut mane happened to glance in his direction with a questioning look, he took the opportunity to ask for directions.

"Looking for Detective Wolfram," he said, his paws coming to rest on his duty belt, "It's important."

The horse perked a brow and nodded toward the far west end of the office, near the doors leading to the veranda. Nick nodded and the horse gave a soft snort, turning back to his paperwork.

Nick reached the door to Wolfram's office, pausing a moment and staring at the stenciled lettering on the inset frosted window. Not every detective in Zooicide had his own office; clearly Wolfram had earned no small measure of respect for his abilities. What skeletons would Eli Wolfram dig up out of Nick's closet before this whole thing was over? The worst part was not knowing himself. At last he summoned his resolve and knocked on the glass pane.

"Come in," Wolfram's voice responded from within.

Nick pushed open the door and stepped inside. The office was small and square, with a large window opposite the door. There were filing cabinets and shelves lining the walls as well as a large white board, its surfaced scribbled and littered with notes and photographs from the case. Nick noticed his own picture posted near the top with 'victim' hastily scrawled underneath. Jonah Hawthorne's picture was below it as well, with the same word, as well as 'tortured-murdered' jotted beneath.

Near the center of the room, Wolfram sat hunched over a sage coloured metal desk with a worn wooden top that looked like it came right out of the fifties. His khaki suit jacket was slung over the back of the wooden roller chair, and the sleeves of his sky blue dress shirt were rolled up. Wolfram wore a dark blue tie with red stripes similar to the one Nick often wore off duty. He smiled when he noted that, as last time, the knot of Wolfram's tie was loose and his top shirt button was left undone. A least they had one thing in common.

There was a computer monitor pushed to one side of the desk, its wires hanging untidily off the edge and vanishing underneath, and a phone perched on the opposite side. Papers and files were strewn over the surface. Wolfram was busily engaged in studying them, his head held in one paw as the other drummed rapidly on the desk top. He sighed faintly, pausing a moment before looking up. When he saw Nick, the consternation on his face evaporated and a pensive, inquisitive look replaced it.

"Officer Wilde, good to see you. What brings you in today?" he asked, his penetrating gaze fixed on Nick.

"Well, Detective," Nick began, somewhat hesitant as he considered what to say, "I've found out some information about the case...something I didn't expect."

Wolfram gestured to the vinyl upholstered metal chair in front of his desk and Nick settled himself into it. Wolfram leaned back in his seat, regarding Nick with the same studious gaze he had when they spoke at the hospital.

"Hopps and I visited some of my contacts in the Nocturnal District," Nick said, "I was able to find out that Hawthorne was connected to a gang called The Blood Fang Posse. It also seems that this group is responsible for a new drug they're calling 'Harbinger' that's already caused a handful of deaths. My contact also let me know that there's a rumor that Landon Graves, the former leader of the gang, disappeared a while back and some unknown mammal has replaced him."

"And?"

Nick furrowed his brow, regarding Wolfram with a searching look, " _And?_ What do you mean?"

"When you stopped speaking, you glanced out the window, your brows twitched into a frown for a split second, and you were rubbing your right thumb over the back of your left paw," Wolfram said, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his desk, "You have something more to say. Something troubling."

A startled look crossed Nick's face for a moment before he regained his composure. "Yeah, there is something else," he said with a slight nod, "I wasn't sure exactly how to put it because I don't really understand it myself. I...I think I tried to join the Blood Fangs when I was a teenager."

The maned wolf perked his brow, tilting his head slightly, "You _think?_ "

"I can't remember exactly..." Nick said, starting to rub the back of his paw again before he noticed it and shifted his paws to the arms of the chair, "I just got this strong feeling that I tried to join them, but I didn't for some reason...I can't get a hold of the memory. I just feel it."

Wolfram furrowed his brow, looking past Nick with a blank stare. His fingers drummed the desk top a few times, several seconds passing before he spoke again. "It's funny you should come by today," he said at length, his gaze focusing on Nick again, "I happen to be busy studying your record...that and the database entries on you. I'm sorry to say it's a bit incomplete. Not everything was computerized yet in those days."

"Find anything interesting?" Nick asked, his eyes fixing on Wolfram's, a hint of sarcasm seeping into his tone.

"A few things," Wolfram said, "It seems your first brush with the law was two counts of shoplifting...juvenile convictions. You were...twelve, I believe?"

Nick responded with a nod and Wolfram continued, "When you were fourteen, you were charged with assault and causing a disturbance, but the DA stayed the assault charge and you got convicted of the disturbance. From there we go to grand theft auto and joy riding. They dropped the GTA and you got busted for the joy riding. Community service. Ring a bell?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right," Nick said, crossing his arms over his chest, "I thought you said I wasn't being investigated."

"You aren't, but you're part of the investigation," Wolfram said, a note of annoyance creeping into his voice, "The next thing I see are notes pertaining to you being investigated for mugging, armed robbery, and carrying illegal weapons. No charges filed. Not enough evidence."

Nick fell silent, staring at Wolfram, his arms still crossed.

"Fell in with the wrong crowd?"

"Among other things..." Nick said, averting his gaze to the window.

"You know, when I see this kind of pattern, it's not uncommon that the next thing I see is murder charges," Wolfram said, "That's the funny thing. There's a gap of a couple of years where it seems you didn't get in trouble...or at least didn't start enough trouble to get noticed...and then the rest of the entries are all petty con games, no charges filed. Just you playing the slippery eel with that little buddy of yours."

"I...can't remember much from those days. I was really messed up..." Nick said, his expression softening somewhat, "I'm not that kind of mammal, Detective."

"Do you remember anyone named Seth Grimm?"

Nick shook his head.

"What about Jack Hargrieve?"

"No, why?" Nick asked.

"There is something else," Wolfram said, leaving Nick's question aside, "I said there's a gap, but that's not completely true. The only thing I could find between the armed robbery and the first con you were suspected of running was a very brief entry on an investigation of an attempted sexual assault. You were caught near the scene, and the arresting officers detained you thinking you were the perp, but the victim said you weren't there and they let you go."

Nick frowned, lowering his gaze. After a moment, he shook his head. "No...no I don't know anything about that," he said, "No idea what you're talking about."

"Are you absolutely sure?"

" _Yes!_ " Nick said, his paws clenching sightly on the arms of the chair as he spoke.

Wolfram narrowed his eyes, studying Nick intently, "Tell me how we get from GTA to armed robbery and attempted sex assault to running the Shell Game for pocket change, Nick."

" _I don't know!_ " Nick said, his voice strained, "If you can tell me, I'd love to find out! I don't remember anything about any sex assault! Are you saying I'm a rapist now!?"

"No, not at all," Wolfram said.

"It sure as Hell sounds like it!" Nick shot back.

Wolfram rose abruptly, clasping his paws behind his back, "I _know_ you didn't do it. I have no doubt in my mind." He paused a moment, as if considering whether or not to speak, then added, "You may have heard that I get a bit hot under the collar about being mistaken for a fox..."

A faint scowl crossed Nick's face at the abrupt change of topic, "Yeah...I figured you don't have much use for us foxes."

"As a kid especially, I got it all the time. Everyone immediately assumed I was a fox. In a strange way, I got to know first hand what it feels like to be hated because of your species," Wolfram said, a pained expression seeping onto his face, "I saw the snap judgments and assumptions they would make without evening bothering to say word one to me. If there was even the _slightest_ evidence, the slimmest shred of proof you attempted to rape that doe, you wouldn't have had a chance. You'd have been tried and convicted...and most likely punished in spades...before you even got to the station."

Nick was stunned into silence, staring at Wolfram with a knitted brow. That kind of honesty was the last thing he expected from the grizzled detective, let alone that level of empathy.

"The thing is, there's a common thread between the mugging, the armed robbery, and the attempted sex assault," Wolfram said, rubbing his thumb and index finger together, as if he was grasping that thread between them at that very moment.

"Which is?" Nick asked, perking a brow.

Wolfram glanced at him, pausing briefly before he spoke, as if watching Nick's reaction to what he was about to say, "Seth Grimm and Jack Hargrieve."

Nick narrowed his eyes, regarding Wolfram quizzically, "What exactly do you mean by that…?"

"What I mean is that you were found or arrested in their company in each case," Wolfram replied.

Nick's eyes widened in shock. He opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing. When Wolfram didn't speak either, he rose and turned to leave. He paused a moment, a hitch in his step, but then continued toward the door.

"Something else you wanted to say?"

Nick paused, his paw on the door knob. "We both know how it looks right now," he said, not turning around, "I'm just trying to figure out how it is that you _don't think_ I'm lying through my teeth to you, Detective."

Wolfram turned toward the window, slipping his paws into his trouser pockets. "Come on, you didn't march all the way up here just to lie to me," he said, "You could have kept all this to yourself. It takes a lot of courage for a cop to admit he once tried to join a gang, especially when he isn't even sure he remembers it." He half turned and a faint smile curled his lips, "You can call me Eli, by the way."

That faint smile was mirrored on Nick's muzzle briefly before he nodded, "All right, Eli. See you around."

The smile quickly faded as Nick headed for the elevators. His mind reeled at the thought that he had been involved in such serious criminal activity with mammals of whom he remembered nothing, mammals that had somehow vanished from his memory like ghosts. He knew, he _had_ _to believe_ he could never be involved in such a despicable crime, and yet more and more he felt he couldn't trust his own mind.

The elevator doors opened and he stepped inside, inwardly thankful it was empty. As the steel doors closed, he was confronted with his hazy, distorted reflection in the polished surfaces. He stared hard at the fox staring back at him, wondering if all this time he really knew the face in the mirror. The elevator began to descend. He slipped his paws into his pockets as he pondered the vague image of himself; what had turned him away from the pattern of escalating crime he had fallen into shortly after his father's death? Why hadn't he wound up in prison for murder, as Eli had mentioned? The more he clutched at the answer to that question, the more uncertain it became.

Finally the elevator reached bottom and the doors opened, erasing his reflection. He strolled out into the foyer with a look of grim determination set on his muzzle. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he opened the contacts and pressed Judy's cell number. She picked up on the second ring.

"Hey, Nick," she said, "Did you talk with Mundi and Wolfram? How did it go?"

"Fine," he said, "Come by the station and pick me up; it's time to go hunting."

-~x0x~-

Savannah Central Plaza buzzed with the murmur of hundreds of mammals, their steps and snippets of conversation mingling with the melodious babbling of the Watering Hole Fountain. The lingering crispness of the spring morning still faintly hung in the air as Lieutenant Mundi paused to search the throngs with his gaze, intent on a meeting with one mammal in particular this morning.

At last his eyes fell on the one he had set out to find; Dr. Marcoh Hornady sat on a bench near the fountain, a small stack of thick books tucked between his side and the arm of the bench. A slenderly built pronghorn antelope of perhaps thirty five, he sat upright, almost rigid, with a hardcover book stretched between his hooves. He seemed to pay no attention to his surroundings, a look of intense concentration on his face as his dark eyes, framed by wire rimmed spectacles, skimmed rapidly over the pages. He was dressed in khaki trousers, a simple black belt, and a brown plaid five button vest shot with subdued red and green threads. His pale blue dress shirt collar was buttoned up, yet he wore no tie, as if he had forgotten it. Mundi observed him carefully for a few moments longer before making his presence known.

"Oh, Dr. Hornady! Very good to see you, sir! I'm so glad I found you," Mundi said, ambling toward the pronghorn with a wave.

Hornady blinked a few times before Mundi's greeting seemed to sink in and he lowered his book only slightly, turning his attention to the Lieutenant. "Oh! Lieutenant Mundi, isn't it?" he said, peering briefly over the rim of his glasses, "What brings you out here to see me?"

"Ah, I just had a few more questions for you, sir, about the break in," Mundi said, one paw nonchalantly buried in his overcoat pocket, "Dr. Maddox mentioned that I'd probably find you here – I had gone to the lab to see you, but of course it's your day off."

A faint smile crossed Hornady's lips and he gave a nod, "Jeannie, yes, she's always willing to help."

"That's some heavy reading you're doing there!" Mundi said. Having come closer, he could see the title of the book: _A Brief History of Pretty Much Everything_ , by Stuart Hawkins. "Isn't that guy the famous physicist from Gyrlandia?" Mundi added.

A faint smile crossed Hornady's muzzle, "Quite right. He's a remarkable kestrel, despite his physical disability. Are you familiar with avian science literature, Lieutenant?"

Mundi chuckled, giving a careless wave of his paw, "Oh no, sir, no. Mrs. Mundi is always telling me I should read more – broaden my mind, she says – but I'm afraid my work keeps me very busy, sir."

"I imagine it does," Hornady said with a nod, "So how may I assist you today?"

Mundi settled himself onto the bench beside Hornady, his long ringed tail slipping between the back and the seat. "Well, sir, just one thing bothers me about the night of the burglary..." Mundi began, rubbing his forehead contemplatively, "Well, you forgetting the alarm, that's understandable. You were working on something, you said – something complicated I'm sure, judging by your book here. But what bothers me, sir, is how that back door got left unlocked. Isn't there some chance you went out back that night? You smoke, maybe?"

Hornady shook his head, closing his book and setting it aside on the stack beside him. "No, I'm afraid not, Lieutenant," he said, pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose, "I never have. As for the door, I wish I could help you, but I rarely ever have occasion to go down to shipping and receiving myself. I spend most of my time in the lab, and the offices upstairs, now and then."

Mundi fished his notebook from his inside coat pocket, plucking a pen from his shirt pocket with the other paw. He jotted a few entries, then turned his attention back to Hornady. "Are you aware if that door is usually left unlocked? Does it get used a lot?" he asked, pen poised to record the response.

Hornady gave a shrug, folding his hooves in his lap and shifting his weight slightly, "Sorry, I really couldn't tell you. You might try talking to Joe Northwood, he's the bison in charge of shipping and receiving. I believe he was at work that day, if I recall correctly."

Mundi scratched a few more notes, but knit his brow in consternation as his pen began to dry up. He pressed harder, to no avail.

Hornady, noticing Mundi's plight, plucked a pen from his vest pocket and offered it, "Here you are."

Mundi nodded, accepting the pen and looking it over with a pleased expression for a moment before continuing his notes, "Ah, thank you, sir! Wouldn't you know I come out to interview you with a dried up pen. Now, I happened to be talking with Dr. Maddox for a while before I came down. She tells me you're the very mammal responsible for creating the Night Howler antidote that was stolen, is that right, sir?"

Hornady averted his gaze with a shy smile, rubbing his thumbs together momentarily. "Well, of course it was a team effort, but I suppose you could say I was responsible for the primary break through," he said, a slight frown coming over his features as he continued, "Not that anyone but an insider like Jeannie would know about that, given the way Manyara managed to take pretty much all the credit."

"Well, maybe you can shed some light on why anyone would want to steal it," Mundi said, regarding Hornady with a sidelong glance, his tail swaying in a slow, languid rhythm.

"I'm afraid I have no idea, Lieutenant," Hornady replied, folding his hooves in his lap once more, "I thought it was the job of the police to figure that out. Didn't your colleague from before mention industrial espionage? Perhaps a rival company wanted to produce their own version of it."

"Maybe, sir, maybe," Mundi said, nodding his head sagely, a contemplative look on his face, "That would be difficult at this point of course, since it's such a high profile case now, what with Officer Wilde getting shot and all."

"Well, I'm sure you'll work it all out in time, Lieutenant," Hornady said, adjusting his spectacles, "Sorry I couldn't be more helpful. Perhaps Mr. Northwood will be of more use to you."

Mundi nodded slowly, shutting his notebook and handing the pen back to Hornady. "I'm sure we will, sir," he said with an easy smile, tucking his notebook back into his pocket, "In the mean time, if you remember anything else that might be helpful, don't hesitate to call us any time, day or night."

Hornady tucked the pen back into his pocket, shifting himself on the bench again and plucking his book from the top of the pile. "Good day, Lieutenant," he said, not waiting for a response before turning his entire attention back to the work of Professor Hawkins.

Turning and thrusting his paws into his coat pockets, Mundi strolled off through the plaza looking nonchalant as ever. As soon as he was out of ear shot, however, he pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial for Wolfram's number.

"Wolfram here. Talk to me Lieutenant," came the gravelly baritone greeting.

"Morning Eli," Mundi said, "Tell me, you had Sergeant Matterhorn follow up on your interview with Northwood, the shipping supervisor, didn't you?"

"The bison? Yeah, seems promising too. Northwood's got a sick kid, lots of medical bills, seems the family's under a lot of financial strain. Could be the motive for an inside job."

"Good, good...tell Matterhorn to keep digging. I'll catch up with you later this afternoon, maybe around three," Mundi said, approaching his dilapidated Studebarker and opening the door.

"Three? Where you headed?"

"I gotta follow up a little lead," Mundi replied, a grin spreading across his narrow muzzle.

-~x0x~-

"Got eyes on the subject...you sure this is our guy?"

"Oh yeah," Nick's voice came back over the radio, "Reggie Varecia...one of the biggest dope dealers in Savannah Central. He'd sell his own mother to make a buck...if there's money to be made on Harbinger, I'd bet he's in on it." They had switched to a private channel, deciding it was best to keep dispatch out of the loop on this bust for the time being.

Judy peered between the boards covering the shattered windows of an abandoned tenement, watching the slinky, languid form of the red ruffed lemur leaning against an alley wall on the far side of the street. He was just slightly shorter than Nick, with a medium build, dressed in a somewhat rumpled, garish light blue sharkskin suit and a black dress shirt. His collar was unbuttoned and spread over his lapels, and a thick gold chain rather than a tie hung around his neck. His beady, pale yellow eyes darted incessantly, framed in a black face with a somewhat pointed muzzle. He wore several large rings on the fingers of both paws.

"You got the camera set up?" Nick asked.

"Yep, camera's rolling," Judy replied, "Just a matter of catching him in the act."

"It won't take long. Once you get the hand off, just say the word and I'll roll on him and take him down. When you see me roll, move around to engage just in case," Nick said, "This guy doesn't usually pack heat, but be ready to light him up if he does something stupid."

Judy drew her pistol, letting it hang by her thigh. "Thanks for the head's up," she said. She wasn't about to let Nick get shot a second time; if Varecia so much as thought about pulling a weapon, she'd put a bullet in his chest quicker than he could blink.

Sure enough, within five minutes, a shabbily dressed, unkempt impala with one broken horn strolled up to Varecia. He was trying to look inconspicuous but failing miserably, looking around furtively at intervals as he spoke in terse, rapid fire conversation. There was a paw to hoof transaction, the impala slipping cash into Varecia's paw and taking something from the other before glancing around once more and darting off. Varecia pocketed the cash and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a self satisfied grin.

"That's it, Nick; we got the trade," Judy said over the radio, excitement seeping into her voice, "Take him down."

"Check this out," Nick said with a chuckle.

He fired up the engine but kept the lights and sirens off. There was little traffic on the quiet side street this late in the afternoon, so he gunned it and zipped down the road, screeching to a halt right in front of Varecia. He instantly popped the door and bounded out, strolling toward the lemur with a broad grin, removing his aviators and tucking them into his pocket. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Reggie Varecia," he said casually, his paws resting on his duty belt, "It's been a long time. How you been keeping?"

The lemur was taken totally off guard, his pale yellow eyes widening for a moment before he regained his composure. He took a long drag on his cigarette and blew an acrid cloud in Nicks' direction. "Nick! Wow, lookit chu! Heheh...things sure change huh?" he said nervously, rolling his cigarette between long slender fingers, "I'm ah...I'm good, real good, yeah..."

" _Reggie_..." Nick said, his smile broadening and his voice taking on a scolding tone, "You have been a _very_ bad boy."

"Wh..whatcha talkin bout Nick? I'm legit now..."

"Tsk, tsk," Nick said, "See that building behind me? You better put on your best smile, Reggie, cause I got you on candid camera. _Boom_ – you busted, son."

His wide yellow eyes doubled in size and the cigarette dropped from Varecia's trembling fingers. "Oh _shit_..." he breathed.

"'Oh shit' is right, Reggie! Now hands up!—Ohhh don't you do it...don't you run— _Damnit_!"

The lemur suddenly bolted, darting down the alley away from the cruiser, his long limbs pumping furiously, his long black tail flailing wildly behind him. Nick charged after him, a snarl curling his lips, "Wilde in pursuit, he's running south down the alley toward Burrows Street!"

"I'm on him, he's _not_ getting away!" Judy snarled into her mic.

Ahead, Varecia toppled garbage cans into the middle of the alley in his mad scramble to escape. Nick merely dodged around them. "My ace in the hole is coming for you, Reggie! You'll wish you let me arrest you if she finds you first!" Nick roared furiously, the burning in his chest intensifying with every step, threatening to take him out of the chase, or maybe worse.

They dashed across the next street, several cars slamming on their brakes to avoid running them down as they weaved between them in a mad dash. As he was about to enter the next alley, Nick noticed a flash of blue and gray enter an alley one block west of him. It brought a smile to his face despite the considerable pain throbbing in his chest.

Suddenly, just as Varecia burst into the next street, he was sent rocketing back into a dumpster at the end of the alley to his right by a flying drop kick from Judy. She had flanked around and cut him off, timing her strike perfectly so that both her footpaws connected with the side of Varecia's ribcage. The dumpster shifted with a loud crash as Reggie slammed into it. He collapsed onto his knees, coughing and sputtering for a moment.

He recovered quickly and pulled a knife, but Judy was on him in an instant. She grabbed his wrist, twisting it violently until it snapped, throwing her whole body weight around it and slamming both footpaws into his face. His head snapped back and the world began to swim. Continuing with her momentum, she wrenched his shoulder into an arm bar and slammed him face first into the pavement. Without missing a beat, she mounted up on his shoulder, clamping his upper arm between her thighs and pinning his already broken wrist in a painful hold. Before he knew what was happening, she slapped the handcuffs on his wrist, then wrenched it down and cuffed the other. She shifted, kneeling across his shoulder blades with a smug grin, "Are we done, Reggie?"

The lemur panted, his eyes squeezed shut with the surge of pain that was only just subsiding, "I'm gonna sue you coppers for police brutality! I ain't done _nothin'_! Harbinger ain't even illegal!"

Nick dashed up, panting heavily for a few seconds, clasping his paws over his knees as he leaned forward to catch his breath. "Phew!...was that...what you were selling, Reggie?" he said between gasps for air, "We only had probable cause to believe you were selling some kind of dope; we didn't know it was Harbinger...heh."

"You can't hold me! I told you, Harbinger ain't illegal yet! _You got nothin'!_ " he said, wriggling slightly beneath Judy. She grasped one of the red tufts of fur at the side of his head and twisted it painfully, convincing him that resistance was not a good plan.

"Well, that _might_ be true if Harbinger was all you had..." Nick said, moving up and kneeling beside him. He patted Reggie's trouser pocket a few times, then pulled out a large baggie of white powder, "But lookie here! You've got yourself what looks like some Pixie Dust! That's a felony, Reggie, and I'm willing to bet that I'm gonna find a bunch more dope before I get done frisking you."

There was a brief silence as Varecia fell totally still. "Aw crap..." he said, his voice a faltering whisper.

"Yes sir, Reggie!" Nick said with a broad grin, "And you're in it up to your eyeballs this time."


	8. Chapter 8

“Woooo look at _all this_ , Reggie...” Nick said with a bemused smirk, “You're a regular walking pharmacy!”

Nick lounged in the passenger seat, his legs stretched out under the dash as he sorted through the various bags and canisters he had found concealed on Varecia, holding each one up in turn and examining it. “Let's see,” he said, “We've got Pixie Dust, Shrooms, Wildwood Weed, Blazer…what else…oh, this one looks different. What's this?” He held up a small baggie of white powder with bluish and greenish flakes in it – it reminded him of laundry soap.

“That's Harbinger!” Varecia growled from behind the prisoner barrier, gritting his teeth against the pain radiating from his dislocated wrist, “And you can give it back, cuz like I said, it ain't illegal! Matter of fact, you can let me go, cuz that's what the impala bought off me!”

“Aha, so that's what it looks like, huh?” Nick said with a wry grin, “Thing is, Reggie, just because something's not illegal in itself, doesn't mean selling it to someone for recreational use isn't illegal.”

“What are you talking about?” Varecia growled, squirming in his seat.

“Administering a noxious substance,” Judy interjected, guiding the cruiser around a turn, “Anyone who administers or _causes to be administered_ a noxious substance is guilty of an offense.”

Nick glanced back at Varecia, “It doesn't even matter whether you _knew_ it was noxious – which of course, you _did_ know, since several mammals have died from ingesting this crap – we can still get you convicted. Well, that plus the fact that we had probable cause to arrest and we caught you red handed with illegal narcotics, illicit cash and a prohibited switch blade—which you decided to use to feloniously assault a police officer.”

The lemur groaned and thumped his head against the plexiglass barrier. “Could you just hurry up and get me to the hospital...that or just shoot me now,” he said with a groan.

“We'll be there in five minutes,” Judy said, “In the meantime, why don't you tell us who your supplier is?”

“Yeah right, bunny!” Varecia sneered, “I ain't no _narc_! Not like Nick the turncoat over here!” He averted his gaze and added in a mumble, “ _Besides, I like breathing..._ ”

“Oh Reggie, you keep going on like that and you're going to hurt my last feeling,” Nick said with a wry grin, then pointed to his cheek, just below his eye, “See? This is where the tear would be. Right there.”

Judy chuckled as they pulled into the emergency room parking lot. They escorted the whinging lemur into the acute treatment area and waited a short distance away as the doctor examined his wrist.

Nick leaned close to Judy and whispered so Varecia couldn't overhear, “Carrots, we need to get this sample of Harbinger to the crime lab ASAP. I have a hunch I want confirmed.”

She glanced at him, instinctively tilting her ears closer, “Whatcha thinking, partner?”

He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest, “I might just be paranoid...it sounds really far fetched, but what if Harbinger showing up on the streets all of a sudden is related to the theft of the Night Howler antidote?”

Judy's eyes went wide as her mind rapidly connected the dots he was laying out. “Damn...” she said, “You're thinking they used the antidote as a basis for Harbinger?”

“Makes a lot of sense if you think about it...Night Howler toxin is still a serious danger, even just from accidental exposure. The legit uses of the flower make it unlikely to be banned any time soon, so the antidote becomes even more important,” Nick said, tapping his index finger on his bicep, his gaze unfocused as he fit the pieces together in his mind, “Base your new designer drug on an important medicine, and it becomes almost impossible to outlaw it...”

“The Blood Fangs seem to be the exclusive dealers in Harbinger, Jonah was associated to them, and Jonah was involved in the burglary...” Judy said, picking up his train of thought, her eyes fixed on his, “It sure looks like the pieces connect. But how would something like that even be possible?”

Nick shrugged, “I have no idea...I'm not a chemist. That's why I want the lab to analyze this stuff.”

She stroked her fingertip thoughtfully over the end of her muzzle a few times, weighing the theory in her mind for a few moments before she nodded. “I guess it's as good an idea as any at this point,” she said at last. She glanced at Varecia, who was squirming as the doctor was fitting a brace on his re-aligned wrist, “When we book in Reggie the dirtbag over there, we'll swing by the lab and drop off the sample. Then we've got pretty much an entire afternoon's worth of paperwork for this case – if we're lucky.”

Nick sighed, rolling his eyes and shoving his paws into his pockets, “Couldn't we just go out and bust more dirtbags? That's a lot more fun.”

“Granted, but that's not going to get our lemur friend convicted and behind bars, now is it?” Judy said with a wry smile before adding, “We caught him, we clean him, Nick. This isn't the movies where you get to just toss the bad guy in the slammer and be done with it.”

He smirked at her, “Fine, but we're watching the video before we get started on the file work – the look on his face was priceless; you gotta see it, Carrots!”

She replied with a chuckle and a mischievous grin, “You should have seen his face when I drop kicked him into the dumpster.”

Their conspiratorial chuckle was interrupted by the emergency doctor, a young, solemn looking pig with drop ears, one of which was black. He adjusted his tie before standing up and gesturing to Varecia. “He's all yours, Officers,” he said, “I've given him some pain meds and fitted a brace. He should be fine in a couple of days, provided you don't break him any further...”

Nick sneered, “He pulled a knife on my partner. Maybe you'd have preferred if she shot him instead?”

The doctor merely frowned and walked away, his hooves thrust into his lab coat pockets.

“ _Jerk,_ ” Nick muttered under his breath as he moved to Varecia's stretcher and took him by the arm, helping him stand. “You're damn lucky Hopps caught you, Reggie...most other cops would have shot you dead for that stupid stunt you pulled,” he said, leading the lemur toward the exit.

Judy fell in step on the other side. “Relax, Nick,” she said, “I'm fine, and so is Reggie. He'll have all kinds of time in jail to think about how he ought to tell us everything we want to know. No doubt you're overwhelmed with gratitude that I spared your life and you'll confess everything, right, Reggie?”

“Why don't you bite me, rabbit?”

Judy sighed and rolled her eyes, “Worth a shot.”

-~x0x~-

The sun was dipping low toward the horizon, flooding his office with golden light and long shadows as Wolfram sat still pouring over the records spread over his desk.

His train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. He reached out and plucked it from the corner of his desk where it had sat silent all afternoon and leaned back in his chair with a sigh, pressing the answer button.

“Wolfram here. Talk to me,” he said, rubbing his weary eyes with his free paw.

“Eli, it's Mundi,” came the familiar voice on the other end, “If you're not busy, I was thinking you ought to come meet me, discuss the case over coffee.”

Wolfram let his head roll back on his chair, “Yes! Thank you. I need to get out of this damn office before I lose it. I've been going over these records all day.”

“Anything interesting?”

“Plenty,” Wolfram said, standing and pulling his jacket from the back of his chair, “None of it good. Where are we meeting? Ungu-Lattes?”

“The Palm Hotel”

“What?” Wolfram said, pausing in surprise, one paw on the door knob, “All the way down in Sahara Square? Why the Palm?”

“I'll meet you in the lobby in half and hour,” Mundi said, cryptically avoiding Wolfram's question and abruptly ending the call.

Wolfram knew what that meant; he was on to something. For all his show of bumbling and his jovial, lackadaisical manner, Mundi was really a relentless, grizzled old hunter. Once he got a scent, he would run it down until he'd uncovered every last secret, turned every stone and unburied every pile of bones.

He quickly stepped out the door, shutting it behind him and leaving the glass rattling.

Within twenty five minutes, Wolfram was rolling up in front of the Palm Hotel and Casino. A grandiose, dramatic piece of architecture, it was by far the most remarkable and impressive building in Sahara Square. Taking the form of a gigantic palm tree surrounded by an artificial lake, it was a world class hotel and casino with a ritzy atmosphere.

Pulling up at the curb near the valet parking area, Wolfram tossed the “ZPD Official Business” card on the dash and jumped out of the car. As he strolled toward the front doors, a teenaged yak dressed in a red vest and black trousers – one of the valets – held up a hoof to stop him, “Ah, sir, you can't park he—”

Wolfram glanced at him over the top of his shades, pulling aside his jacket to reveal his detective's shield. Without a word, he brushed past the stunned valet and slipped through the revolving doors into the spacious lobby.

Luxurious in every detail, the lobby was almost as much a spectacle as the building itself. With hardly a straight line to be seen, the spacious, open lobby consisted of multiple levels, with curved balconies flanking the main floor area and a sunken lounge to the right of the reception desk. The walls were lined with shops, a restaurant and bar. Directly in front of Wolfram, a tiled mosaic walkway led to the circular reception desk whose central feature was the thick, gnarled roots, trunk and branches of an enormous tree.

He caught sight of Mundi standing near the railing at the edge of the lounge. The coati grinned and waved him over. Wolfram strolled up to his friend and partner, extending his paw. Mundi shook it with a grin, gesturing to the balcony behind him, “I reserved us a seat and coffee is on its way.”

Wolfram fell in step behind Mundi, his paws tucked into his trouser pockets. “You're looking rather cheerful this afternoon,” he said with a perk of his brow, “You have a lead.”

A quiet chuckle escaped Mundi's throat as he led Wolfram to their table, positioned against the railing with a view of the front entrance. Easing himself into his chair, Mundi leaned back, regarding Wolfram with a bemused smile, “Perceptive as always, Eli. I'd hate to play cards against you, you know that?”

Wolfram smirked, settling himself into his chair, one arm slung over the railing. He was about to speak when the server, a young buck deer in a crisply pressed black vest, trousers, white shirt and black bow tie arrived with their coffee. The buck set the two coffee mugs on the table along with a small porcelain creamer and a dish of sugar cubes. Wolfram thanked him with a nod and the buck bowed before departing.

“So,” Wolfram said, dropping a sugar cube in his steaming coffee mug and stirring it with a silver spoon, “Going to keep me in suspense?”

“Yes,” Mundi said with a grin, pouring a generous helping of cream in his coffee and following it with a pair of sugar cubes, “Because I want to know what you found out about our friend Wilde's colourful past.”

Wolfram frowned, taking a long sip of his coffee, savouring it for a few moments as he prepared to relate his day's work to Mundi. At length, he set the cup down, staring across the table at the Lieutenant with an incisive gaze. “Do you know how they discovered the existence of black holes, Lieutenant?” he asked, his paw resting on the table as his fingertips played over the handle of his mug.

Mundi scratched his head, “You know, Mrs. Mundi was watching some program about that the other night...I think I fell asleep half way through.”

“Black Holes themselves are completely invisible because not even light can escape them,” Wolfram said, narrowing his eyes as he weaved his thoughts together in his mind, “They were finally discovered by the observation of their effect on objects around them...they couldn't be seen, but their influence gave them away.”

“What's this all got to do with Wilde, I have to ask?” Mundi said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Ah, that's good stuff.”

Wolfram looked up at him and smiled wryly. “I think I found two black holes in Nick Wilde's life, and their names are Seth Grimm and Jack Hargrieve,” he said, “Grimm is a jackal and Hargrieve is a hyena. They're the only elements of Nick's background that he has no memory of. I think that his mind blocked them out for some reason.”

“What's that called again...Dissociative Amnesia? Something like that,” Mundi said, “I think that was on one of Mrs. Mundi's shows too. So, what's the story with these two guys?”

“Grimm is a relatively small time gang banger with a long rap sheet for mostly violence and drugs – career criminal type. He's not known for subtlety, but he's apparently been laying low the last little while. No hits on him recently,” Wolfram recounted, pausing to take another long sip of coffee, “Hargrieve...he's a different story. He, Grimm and Nick were somehow involved in an attempted sex assault years ago, when Nick was fifteen or so. They nabbed all three near the scene, but the victim said Nick wasn't there and he was cut loose. Nick doesn't remember anything about any of it. Funny thing is, he _does_ remember being arrested for a couple of other crimes where both Grimm and Hargrieve were also arrested—he just doesn't remember _them_.”

“Black holes,” Mundi said with a nod, his head tilted as he weighed the information in his mind, “If he blocked them completely from his mind, there has to be a serious reason. So where's this Hargrieve guy now?”

Wolfram sighed, “That's the problem, the guy's a ghost. He had built up a very nasty rap sheet for a nineteen year old, but as soon as he made bail on the charges from this incident, he vanished. Not a trace of him since.”

“Maybe somebody offed him?” Mundi offered with a wave of his paw.

“Maybe...” Wolfram mused, a far off look taking over his gaze. “I sent a query to my contacts with the Feds and Interpol just in case. It's possible he skipped town or went overseas to evade the rap. In the mean time, I think I'll go beat the bushes and see if I can turn up Mr. Grimm—maybe he's still in touch with his old pal Hargrieve.” He turned his gaze back to Mundi again with a wry smirk, “All right, your turn.”

“Well, my lead should be showing up any minute now,” Mundi said with a knowing grin, checking his watch. He glanced at the entrance for a moment before his face lit up, “Aha! And here he is, right on time...”

Wolfram followed Mundi's gaze toward the front entrance to the hotel; he nearly jumped out of his seat, his eyes wide as he caught sight of none other than Dr. Marcoh Hornady strolling through the lobby making a bee line for the casino doors. He was dressed in a sharp black suit with a black and silver striped tie and a spread collared shirt with double cuffs. Wolfram caught a glimpse of what appeared to be gold cufflinks and an expensive watch. He glanced at Mundi in surprise, “What the hell is he doing here?!”

Mundi's wry, knowing smile broadened as he fished a few bills from his coat pocket – enough to cover both drinks – and dropped them in the middle of the table. “Ohh, probably the same as all the other mammals in there, I expect. I really got onto his scent when I interviewed him this morning...”

“Something he said tipped you off, then?”

“Actually,” Mundi said, scratching the side of his head, “It was what he _didn't say_ that made me the most suspicious. He didn't even bat an eye when I mentioned Wilde being shot – most mammals would react to the mention of something like that. He just brushed past it like I hadn't said it. Anyway, shall we go find out what our antelope friend is up to?”

Wolfram glanced at Mundi with a quizzical look as the latter rose and turned from the table, thrusting his paws deep into the pockets of his overcoat. He fell in step behind as Mundi led him across the mezzanine to a nondescript steel door along the outer wall. It had a peep hole in the center with a large 'no entry' sign above it. Mundi rapped sharply on the door with his knuckle before half turning to his partner.

Wolfram narrowed his eyes, “How did you even know he'd be here?”

Mundi grinned, “While I was interviewing him, my pen ran dry. He lent me his – it was one of the freebies from here.”

A startled look washed over Wolfram's features; he was about to speak when the door suddenly opened and a grim looking warthog dressed in a security uniform consisting of a white shirt and black trousers stared out at them.

He seemed to be in his mid forties, with a generous waistline, a slightly chubby face and a shock of salt and pepper hair between his ears. Despite his being obviously out of shape, his uniform was crisp and his tusks were highly polished. A slight smile crossed his snout upon catching sight of Mundi. He nodded. “Afternoon, Lieutenant! How's the missus?” he said, his gravelly, hard edged voice seeming incongruous with the jovial manner of his greeting.

Stepping aside, he invited them in with a wave of his arm. The room was small and dimly lit. One entire wall was taken up with a huge bank of security monitors showing every corner of the casino. On the back wall was a credenza with a coffee machine, a stack of cups and a jar full of change. Beside that stood a water cooler, and next to that, another door led to a small office beyond.

“Oh, good, good, thanks! Hogdon, this is my partner, Detective Wolfram,” Mundi said, “Eli, this is Matt Hogdon, head of security for the Palm.”

Hogdon shook Wolfram's paw heartily. “The Lieutenant handled a murder case here a few years back,” he said with a grin, “Did a great job keeping things discreet – the management were very happy about that. Any time we can help, we're at ZPD's disposal.”

“We're looking for a young antelope who just came in. Black suit, striped tie, nice watch, glasses. He just went into the casino just before we came to see you,” Mundi said with a nod to the monitors.

Hogdon sat down in front of the large bank of security monitors. He leaned back in his chair, cupping his chin in his hoof for a moment as he studied the screen. At length he pointed to one of the monitors showing a roulette table. Hornady sat at one side of the, looking very suave and pleased with himself, a young female kudu hanging off his shoulder. “That your guy?” Hogdon asked with a backward glance at Mundi.

Mundi nodded, “That's him. Recognize him?”

Hogdon turned back to the image, studying it for a moment. “Yeah...” he said slowly, as if recognition was slowly dawning in his mind, “Yeah, he comes in a lot. Not for a while, but he started up again about a week or so ago, maybe?”

Wolfram moved closer, resting his palms on the counter in front of the bank of screens and leaning in. His eyes fixed on the image of Hornady, studying every nuance the camera could reveal. “He ever cause any trouble for you and your staff?” Wolfram asked after a long interval of silence.

“Him? Naw, he's harmless,” Hogdon said, leaning back in his chair, “Some weeks he comes in every day, never had a word of complaint about the guy from anyone.”

“He bets progressively higher as the nights go on? Keeps going till he's broke?”

“Yeah,” Hogdon said, regarding Wolfram with a look of surprise, “How did you know?”

Wolfram perked a brow and looked at Mundi who was looking back with a wry grin. “Next move?” he said, returning to his scrutiny of Hornady's image on the monitor.

“We play this one close to our chest for now, as the saying goes,” Mundi said with a chuckle.

-~x0x~-

The following two days were relatively uneventful, a kind of uneasy normalcy returning to Nick and Judy's work lives. On the morning of their last shift of the block, Judy found Nick standing near Clawhauser's desk in the foyer of the station talking on his cell. Her face brightened upon catching sight of him and her ears instinctively swiveled toward him, allowing her to catch the last bit of his conversation.

“—nice one near the back? On Wednesday then? Perfect. You're a prince, Jimmy, I owe you one. Yeah, thanks, bud, seriously...” Nick said. A startled look came over him as he caught sight of Judy approaching, and he abruptly added, “Gotta go, Jimmy, duty calls!”

At first she was puzzled by his startled expression, but when it rapidly melted into a broad, inviting smile Judy couldn't help but smile herself; to see how her mere presence was enough to delight him was amazing to her. “Whatcha up to, Nick? Nothing nefarious I hope,” she said, holding out his morning coffee as she took a sip of her own.

“Oh indeed, quite dastardly! Muahaha!” he said, taking the cup with a grin and a devilish waggle of his eyebrows.

She chortled and rolled her eyes, “Don't give up your day job; you've got no future in the theatre.”

He gasped melodramatically and pressed his paw against his chest in mock chagrin, “Madam, you wound me!”

Suddenly, their banter was interrupted by the Chief's booming voice from the mezzanine above. “WILDE!” he roared, leaning over the railing and glaring at them in his typical fierce manner, “GET YOUR FLUFFY BUTT TO THE SQUAD ROOM, NOW!”

Not waiting for a response, Bogo stepped back from the railing and vanished. Nick, saucer eyed, glanced at Judy, then at Clawhauser, who sat at his usual post with a worried look on his rotund features. “What the heck is that about!?” Nick said, hoping at least one of the two of them had some kind of answer.

Clawhauser winced, glancing back at the balcony before answering, “Police Conduct Commission...I think it's about what happened when you got... _well, you know._ ” The cheetah fidgeted in place a few times, finally managing a crooked, uneasy smile, “Good luck!”

The look in Nick's eyes as he turned back to Judy made it clear to her he didn't want her to leave his side. She nodded in response to his unspoken plea, and together they made their way to the squad room. Pausing at the door, Nick took a deep breath, straightened his posture and his forage cap, and pushed it open.

As the door opened, Nick was shocked to see every seat in the room filled. Several officers, lacking chairs, lined the back and side walls. Bogo stood behind his podium at the front. As Nick stepped hesitantly inside, every officer in the room rose and stood at attention. Nick furrowed his brow in confusion, about to ask what was going on, when he heard Judy turn the lock behind him. He whirled and looked at her, only to find her grinning broadly and watching him with unabashed admiration in her eyes.

Nick turned back to the Chief, who addressed him with a wry smirk, “Sorry about the trickery, Wilde, but if you knew we had this planned, you'd have ducked out of it somehow.” He drew himself to his full height, adopting a formal air, “Officer Nicholas Wilde – front and center!”

Still in shock, Nick stood smartly to attention, his body reacting as if entirely on its own, a byproduct of the Academy's intensive training. He marched to the front of the room toward Bogo's podium, halting in front of the Chief. He snapped up his paw in salute, and Bogo returned it.

“Officer Nicholas Wilde,” Bogo said, regarding Nick briefly with a faint smile, “Several days ago, while involved in an investigation of a burglary, you showed the most exemplary courage and resolve in the face of the gravest danger. Without regard for your own safety, you selflessly shielded your partner from a murderous attack, thereby saving her life. These actions are the very epitome of the values of the ZPD – Trust, Integrity, and Bravery. In recognition of your great act of selfless courage, it is my duty and my honor to present you the Golden Wings of Valour.”

Nick stood ramrod straight as Bogo stepped out from behind the podium, the glimmering golden medal with its blue and black ribbon dangling from his hoof. It took the form of a golden shield emblazoned with the arms of Zootopia, with a sword resting point down behind it, wreathed in glimmering golden wings.

Nick stuck out his chest with a stricken look of mild terror on his features, his arms pressed tightly to his sides in rigid attention. Bogo knelt and pinned the medal above Nick's left breast pocket, just below the new badge he had been issued as a replacement for his damaged one. He handed Nick the box the medal came in, which also contained the undress ribbon he would normally wear on his duty uniform. Nick tucked it under his left arm.

“You did us all proud,” Bogo said quietly as he focused on pinning the medal in place, “You take after your coach.” He smiled briefly before standing back to his full height. He delivered a sharp salute, which Nick returned.

“ _Yes sir,_ ” Nick said quietly.

Spinning on his heel in an about turn, Nick faced the room. Simultaneously, every officer saluted. From where she stood, Judy could see the wetness at the edges of Nick's eyes as he saluted back; she knew he must be grateful for the shadowing effect of his forage cap's brim. After a moment, Bogo lowered his salute and began applauding, which prompted the rest of the room to erupt in uproarious applause.

“Go ahead and take your seats,” Bogo said, raising his hoof for silence. Once Judy and Nick had taken their accustomed place, Bogo gave a rare grin, addressing the entire gathering. “Oh, by the way, we have a reservation at McGuffin's Public House at nineteen hundred hours,” he said, “and the first round is on me.”

The room erupted in roars of approval and thunderous banging on the tables. Bogo let it go for a few moments, then raised his hoof, “All right, enough, _shut_ _it_ _!_ ”

As Bogo read out the day's assignments, Nick sat quietly, his head bowed, clutching the blue leatherette box with its gold embossed letters reading 'For Valour.' He ran his fingertips reverently over the letters. Judy observed him closely, but decided against speaking for the moment.

When the rest of the officers began filing out to start the day's patrol, Nick's paw over top of hers gave Judy pause. He glanced at her with a faint, almost bashful smile before he released her paw, turning his gaze back to the blue box he held. “Just need your help with something...” he said in a hushed voice.

Once everyone had departed, leaving them alone in the bullpen, Nick jumped down from the chair. When Judy followed suit, he held out the box to her, “Can't wear the medal on patrol. I was hoping you'd be so kind as to pin the undress ribbon on for me...it's kind of awkward to do it myself and I'll look like a fool out there if it's crooked.”

She smiled warmly at his request, taking the box from his paw and opening it. “Sure thing, Nick,” she said, reaching up and carefully unfastening the medal before laying it in the box. She lifted the ribbon and laid the box aside, taking a step closer. Reaching up, she carefully began fastening the ribbon in place, a process that required her to unfasten one of his buttons first and reach inside his shirt to put the backers in place. She was keenly aware of how close she was to him and the way he bowed his muzzle close to her as he watched.

“It just seemed more fitting this way,” he said at length, his deep, hushed voice resonating in her ears, “Having you pin it on.”

When she had finished, her paws lingered on his chest longer than was really safe, her fingers spreading over the blue fabric of his shirt as she looked up into his eyes. “Thanks, Nick,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. Suddenly, she seemed to remember herself and drew back a step, pulling her paws into her chest for a second before dropping them to her sides. She felt a flush rising in her ears and scrambled to hide it by grabbing the medal box and holding it out to him. “Can't forget this!” she said, a bit more pep in her voice than usual.

He took it with a broad smile, regarding her in silence for a moment before he said, “I'll drop it in my locker on our way out. Ready to go catch some bad guys?”

“Born ready,” she said, moving past him and heading for the door, her pace a little more brisk than usual.

Nick fell in step behind, a bemused smirk on his face and his tail swishing back and forth with a slow, languid sweep.


	9. Chapter 9

They were half way to the locker room when Judy's phone rang. She stopped and fished it from her pocket, tapping the answer button. “Hopps here. What's up?” she said, listening for a moment before she glanced at Nick, quickly covering the microphone and adding, “It's Agatha Swinton, from the crime lab.”

He perked a brow at her, a look of keen interest taking over his features. He couldn't make out anything Swinton was saying, but the expression on Judy's face told him something was up. Judy nodded a few times, interspersed with glances at Nick.

“Okay, we'll be there in a few minutes,” she said finally, tapping the end call button and replacing the phone in her pocket. “We need to get down to the lab,” she added, “Agatha's got some important results for us.”

Nick tucked the medal box into the cargo pocket of his trousers and turned toward the bank of elevators located at the back of the foyer. “Let's go, Carrots!” he said with a grin, “Seems like maybe we'll finally catch a break in this case.”

Within a few minutes, they pushed open the doors of the crime lab. Located in the basement of ZPD headquarters, it was a brightly lit, sterile looking facility. The main lab consisted of a large room with several steel topped workbenches, their surfaces covered with a bewildering array of scientific equipment. Various mammals were bustling about in lab coats, goggles and rubber gloves. Amid the organized chaos, they saw a young female pig waving to them.

They made their way to a workbench near the back where Agatha sat. She looked to be in about her mid twenties, with a smooth, pink complexion, jade green eyes and reddish blonde hair tied back into a taut bun. She was dressed in a white blouse with a short red sweater over her shoulders and a pair of gray slacks.

She seemed to be almost buzzing with excitement as they approached, so much so that when they arrived, she grinned at them but spun her chair around without bothering to shake their paws. She rapidly began typing on her computer as she spoke, bringing up various graphs and tables that meant nothing to Judy and Nick, but which she was scanning with keen interest.

“Okay you guys,” she said, “This is big...this is the craziest thing I've seen through here in a long time. Usually you guys from patrol rag on me for speaking technobabble, so I'm going to try to just lay it out in plain language...”

Nick smirked, “Uh, I'm Nick and this is Judy, by the way. Pleasure to meet you, Agatha, is it?”

She suddenly spun her chair back around, a mortified look on her face. “Oh gosh, I'm so sorry! I totally didn't even introduce myself!” she said, extending both her hooves and shaking both their paws at the same time in an efficient, if rather awkward greeting. “I get really excited about this kind of thing and sometimes I forget the basics,” she said with a chuckle, “And yes, Agatha. Pleasure to meet you. Okay, check this out, seriously!”

She spun back around and tapped a few more keys. A conceptual model of a highly complex molecule appeared on the screen. “Okay, so” she said, taking a deep breath, “I ran that sample you gave me through every test we have available, and I couldn't find anything that matches it exactly. It was only when I compared it to Night Howler toxin and its antidote that I found similarities...so it seems like your theory is correct.”

She leaned back slightly in her chair, tapping her chin with her index finger, “Basically, this stuff is an artificially modified organic compound – someone took the molecule, specifically the unique way in which it interfaces with receptors in the brain, and modified it to cause a different effect. It seems like they built on the foundation of the antidote, but twisted it so that instead of regulating the excessive aggression created by Night Howler toxin, it creates profound levels of euphoria, triggering some of the most primitive centers of the brain. The problem is that this can also trigger intense hallucinations and tap into the subconscious...” She paused, glancing at Judy and Nick with a look of deep concern, “Taking this stuff could be like opening Pandora's Box inside your brain. Hell of a ride until it turns ugly on you.”

“Not to mention it can also be deadly,” Nick said, his lips set in a grim line.

“Also that,” Agatha said with a nod.

“So, this is some pretty advanced chemistry, I gather,” Judy said, “Not the kind of thing you can cook up in your basement?”

Agatha shook her head, “No way, this is some next level stuff; we're talking manipulation of the material on a molecular level. Whoever designed this stuff is a genius.”

Judy glanced at Nick with a look of concern. “Agatha, could you please forward all this information to Lieutenant Mundi at Zooicide and copy in the Drug Squad and Chief Bogo as well?” Judy said, turning her attention back to Agatha, “It's really important that they get it as soon as possible.”

Agatha nodded, glancing from Judy to Nick. “This stuff is spreading like wild fire out there, isn't it?” she asked, a look of grave concern on her features.

“Yeah,” Nick said with a nod, “Pretty much. We're going to do whatever we can to stop it.” He glanced at Judy, patting her shoulder, gently and flashing a reassuring grin, “Time to ride, partner?”

Judy nodded, her eyes resolute, “Yeah, let's go.”

“Be safe out there, you guys!” Agatha called after them, “Somebody's got a lot invested in pushing this stuff.”

Nick waved over his shoulder as he and Judy disappeared through the doors of the lab.

They were back in the foyer within a couple of minutes, heading toward the doors leading to the motorcade. Suddenly, Nick halted mid stride, snapping his fingers, “Oh! Carrots, you go fire up the car; I just remembered I have to drop the box in my locker. I'll catch up.”

She glanced back at him, then nodded, “Okay, I'll pull up out front and wait for you.” She turned and headed on toward the exit.

Nick waited a few moments before heading toward the locker room. The instant he got in the door, he grabbed his phone and hit Finnick's number on speed dial. He tucked the phone between his shoulder and cheek and entered the combination on his locker as it started ringing.

“Finnick's Luxury Limo Service, Finnick here; where can I take you today?” came the gravelly voice on the other end.

“Hey, Fin, it's Nick!”

“Oh, hey buddy, what's up?” Finnick said, his tone changing to its usual rough edged style.

“I need to book the limo for Wednesday night; _please_ tell me you're available,” Nick said, holding the phone in one paw and tucking the box into his locker with the other.

“Heh, yeah, I'm available. Wednesday night ain't the busiest, you know?” he said, then after a brief pause added, “Whatcha got planned?”

Nick grinned, shutting his locker and fastening the lock. “I managed to get a reservation at the Igloo Chill Lounge” he said, “An old pal of mine hooked me up. Unfortunately Wednesday night was all I could get. Beggars can't be choosers, I guess.”

Finnick let out a long, low whistle at the mention of the Igloo. “Damn, Nick!” he said, the admiration evident in his voice, “You movin' up town. Must be for a skirt...who's the lucky female you're takin' to a swanky joint like that?”

Nick perked a brow, taken aback by the question. “Well, Judy, of course...” he said, “Who else?”

There was a long silence on the other end. Nick frowned, waiting for a response. Finally, Finnick spoke again, “Daaaaamn, Nick...you're really serious, ain't you? You really fell for a bunny...”

“You know what? If you're gonna be an asshole about it, I'll figure something else out,” Nick said sharply, the heat in his voice obvious.

“Naw, naw, we cool, Nick, we cool...” Finnick said quickly, “Sorry, I guess I just didn't realize you two were uh... _so serious_ , you know? I mean I knew you guys was close, but this is way closer than I thought...”

Nick heaved a deep sigh, “Look, Fin, you of all mammals ought to get this. You and I have both been treated like second class animals our whole lives just because we're foxes. Well, Judy made me realize I'm _not_ second class. She didn't care that I was a fox...she believed in me. Maybe I don't give a damn if she's a bunny, you get me?”

“Yeah...” Finnick said, his voice low and measured, “I hear you, Nick.”

“Good,” Nick said, his annoyance abating slightly, “Listen, a bunch of us are heading to McGuffin's Pub after work. You wana come?"

"Naw, don't think I'd really fit with that crowd, Nick," Finnick said, a hint of sarcasm creeping into his tone.

"All right, I gotta run. I'll see you at my place at five thirty Wednesday, then we'll swing over and pick up Judy.”

“Cool. See you then,” Finnick said, then hung up.

Nick tucked his phone back into his pocket and headed out the door. He crossed the foyer and emerged into the bright morning sunlight. As promised, Judy was waiting in the cruiser at the bottom of the steps out front. Nick bounded up into the passenger seat, shutting the door and fastening his seat belt. He flashed a roguish grin at Judy, “Sorry to keep you waiting, Carrots. Let's roll.”

She smiled in return, then quickly turned her eyes back to the road. There was a brief pause before she spoke again, although this time she kept her eyes forward. “You know...I don't think I've told you how good it's been to have you back,” she said, her voice low but steady, “It's just not the same without you in that seat...”

He glanced at her for a moment, then released a soft sigh and turned his gaze back to the road ahead, “Yeah, it's good to be back. I think I would have gone stir crazy if I had to stay in that hospital another day. Nothing quite feels right when—well, I mean I was just worrying about you out here by yourself.”

She shot him a sidelong glance, a faint smile curling her lips, though she didn't speak. He averted his gaze, looking out the side window. She figured he didn't count on his reflection in the window betraying his bashful smile and the faint reddening of his ear membranes.

“Speaking of _us_ ,” he said, recovering his bearing and turning back to her with a roguish smirk, “We're going out Wednesday night. I know the timing isn't ideal, we've got work at eleven the next morning and all that, but it's the best I could do. Hoping the venue will make up for it.”

She perked a brow at him, “Which is?”

“Weeeellll,” he began, regarding her coyly with half lidded eyes, “We have reservations for dinner and dancing at the Igloo Chill Lounge.”

She was so startled she nearly missed the red light ahead and had to slam on the brakes, causing them both to lurch forward in their seats. She stared wide eyed at him, “Are you serious?! That's the most exclusive jazz club in Tundratown! How in the world did you manage that?!”

A smug, self-satisified grin overtook his muzzle as Nick slipped his paws behind his head, leaning back in his seat. “I know everyone, remember?” he said, winking at her.

She chuckled to herself as the light turned green and they rolled on, “Yeah, I remember...”

The remainder of the shift was taken up with routine calls. They handed out a dozen or so tickets for moving violations, broke up a fight in Savannah Central, attended a minor car accident, and picked up a shoplifter from Sahara Square and took him to lockup.

The final call of the day was for an old goat named Martha. Suffering dementia, she had wandered away from a nearby retirement home. She was convinced she was a princess, so Nick turned on the charm and convinced the lady he was her chauffeur and that a car had been sent to take her to her tea party. Judy had to hold back a chuckle as the old goat fawned over Nick and walked arm in arm with him to the cruiser, then again from the cruiser into the waiting arms of the grateful orderlies at the home. Judy finally lost it when Martha blew Nick a kiss and called out, “Call me, big boy!” as the orderlies shut the door.

“I think you've earned that free round at McGuffin's tonight,” Judy said, laughing and wiping away a tear from her eye.

“Protect and Serve, Officer Hopps,” he said with a smirk, “That's what we do at the ZPD.”

-~x0x~-

Their adventure with Martha the wandering goat had delayed them beyond the end of the shift so that by the time they got back to the precinct, the waning sun was casting long shadows through the tall, narrow windows of the foyer. Judy stood just outside the male locker room, nonchalantly browsing on her phone as she waited for Nick. Dressed in a pair of sage cargo capris and a loose fitting lavender tank top, she leaned with her back pressed against a pillar.

Before long, Nick emerged wearing a short sleeved black silk shirt with a red palm frond print, gray chinos and a black belt. He wore no tie, his top two buttons left unfastened, permitting a white tuft of his fur to puff out of his open collar. He already had on his aviator shades and strolled out with paws in pockets, looking entirely at ease. “Our chariot awaits, Miss Hopps,” he said, flashing a playful smile and holding out the crook of his elbow to her.

Judy's face lit up when she caught sight of him. She tucked away her phone and strolled up to his side, slipping her arm through his. “Lead me on, Mister Wilde,” she said with a faint giggle in her voice. Together, they departed arm in arm, heading for the train station across the square.

Once on board the train, they sat down side by side in the middle of a bank of seats. Judy beamed up at him, her excitement showing in the perk of her ears and the occasional excited twitch of her pink nose. She fished out her phone and plugged in the ear buds, handing one to Nick.

“I downloaded Gazelle's new single, you should check it out,” she said, rapidly tapping her way through the menus of the music player and picking the song.

Nick smiled broadly, relaxing into his seat. He nonchalantly let his arm drape across the seat back behind her head, his paw dangling, fingers occasionally brushing against the curve of her bare shoulder. She didn't seem to notice as she was too absorbed in the song, but Nick's smile broadened as the train passed into a dimly lit tunnel and he caught sight of their reflection in the panes of the window opposite; he liked the way they looked together.

Another fifteen minutes or so found them emerging from the underground station a block from McGuffin's. Comprising the ground floor of a venerable three storey brownstone in the historical district of Savannah Central, McGuffin's Public House was one of the oldest traditional pubs in Zootopia, and as Nick and Judy approached, it seemed cozy and inviting.

Latticed windows framed in dark stained oak glowed in the waning light, the bottom of their panes slightly rippled by the relentless march of time. The front door, flanked by a pair of wrought iron pendant coach lamps, was a stout oak affair painted vibrant crimson and inset with rounded stained glass windows depicting golden harps entwined with ivy. As they got closer, the lilting melody and pulsing beat of the traditional music within began to waft to their ears through the evening air.

Nick strode up to the door, arm in arm with Judy, and reached for the gleaming brass door handle. In gentlemanly fashion, he pulled open the door and stepped back with a slight bow and a flourish of his free paw. “After you, my dear Carrots,” he said with a wry smile.

She chuckled and mock curtseyed to him as she headed inside, “Why thank you, kind sir.”

Nick followed her inside, and having passed through a narrow entrance way, they found themselves enveloped by a billow of raucous music and the low rumble of conversation. The interior was tastefully finished in a combination of rich, cherry stained oaken wainscoting with antiqued plaster above. The walls were decorated with various old fashioned advertisements and oil paintings. To the left of the door stood the bar with its gleaming brass taps and tall oaken shelves lined with every size and description of liquor bottle. Around the exterior of the pub ran a gallery with more tables designed for smaller mammals, permitting them to be at eye level with much larger ones like elephants or giraffes.

Nick scanned the crowd of patrons looking for their reserved table as Judy turned her attention to the small stage to the right of the door, her foot already tapping to the rollicking beat of the music. The band was lead by a hoary, scraggly furred wolfhound dressed in black trousers, a white shirt and black suspenders. His sleeves were rolled back to the elbows and he held a huge, round drum in one paw which he was welting vigorously with a short, double ended stick as he sang. To his right, a chocolate brown pine marten with a golden furred throat dressed in black trousers, a gray vest and red shirt accompanied the drumming with a lilting melody played on a tin whistle. They were backed up by a red stag strumming a mandolin and a stout, broad shouldered old badger pumping furiously on an accordion. Judy's heart sank into her gut, however, at what she saw next.

The song shifted to a fiddle solo, and in perfect timing, the fiddler danced to the front of the stage. She was a strikingly pretty red vixen in her mid to late twenties with black tipped ears and black slashes along both sides of her muzzle. Dressed in a brown vest and a green tartan skirt with a broad belt, she had a lithe physique and made good use of it as she sawed wildly on her fiddle, her hips and tail swaying in perfect time to the melody. Her muzzle bore a broad, jovial smile that let her bright white teeth flash periodically in the light as she bounded to the beat of the music. Judy felt suddenly overwhelmed with dread and insecurity, sure that Nick would be immediately smitten if he were to set eyes on such a display. Much to her relief, she felt Nick's paw wrap around hers and gently tug her toward the back of the pub.

He had apparently made no notice of the lovely fiddler on stage as he led Judy among the tables and plush velvet chairs of the pub toward a long table in a semi-private room nestled beside a fireplace in the back corner. As they got closer to the table, the officers already seated, all dressed in civilian clothes, cheered a warm greeting to them.

“The mammal of the hour!” Bogo said with an uncharacteristic smile, “About time you showed up, Wilde!” He gestured to a large wooden chair at the head of the long table, with another to the right of it for Judy, “Saved you a spot, too, Hopps!”

Nick sat down with a broad grin, and Judy took the seat beside him. Much to her chagrin, he was facing directly toward the stage and the alluring fiddle player dancing around on it; she tried to force a smile as the server came around and asked for their drink orders.

“I'll have a Fox's Fiddle Ale,” Nick said.

Judy winced unconsciously, glancing at Nick. He smiled back warmly at her.

“And for my partner... _let me guess_...” he said, regarding her with a bemused smirk, “Bunnyburrow Shandy?”

Judy's ears perked up as she regarded him with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. “How did you know?” she asked, her nose twitching faintly.

“Lucky guess,” he said with a shrug.

Judy felt some of the tension drain from her neck and shoulders as Snarlov's massive paw slapped her on the back. He raised his glass of vodka in friendly welcome, his muzzle spreading into a broad, toothy grin. Grizzoli, Fangmeyer, Higgins, Delgato, Wolford—nearly every officer from their shift was present, and all to celebrate Nick's achievement. Nick, for his part, seemed entirely at ease, trading war stories with Wolford and munching mixed nuts at intervals from the bowl in the middle of the table.

Their pints arrived in short order and Judy immediately took a long swig to steel her frayed nerves, setting her frosted glass down after several gulps of the frothy, semi-opaque liquid.

Nick chuckled, giving a gentle nudge with his elbow, “I know it's half lemonade, but pace yourself Carrots! Besides, it's customary to begin with a toast.”

“Good idea, Wilde!” Bogo said, picking up on his comment, “Let's hear it!”

There was a rumble of approval from the officers present; Nick smirked and raised his paw in acquiescence. He lifted his pint glass and was about to speak when Fangmeyer shouted from several seats down. “Stand up!” she said, one paw cupped around the end of her muzzle, the other clutching a half empty pint of ale.

Nick stood on his chair and raised his glass again.

“I said stand up!” Fangmeyer repeated with a grin.

Nick burst into a laugh. “Aw shut up, stripes!” he retorted, “No short jokes!” Grinning, he raised his glass and scanned the faces of his colleagues. He cleared his throat before speaking. “May you be an hour in Heaven, before the devil knows you're gone,” he said with an air of deep solemnity.

There was a collective groan and Grizzoli piped up, “Come on, be serious, Wilde!”

“All right, then,” he said, adopting an air of mock formality, “Here's to you, and here's to me, and may we good friends always be, but if we should happen to disagree, then _screw you_ and here's to me!”

The table erupted in laughter.

“Cut the bullshit, Wilde!” Fangmeyer said with a smirk, “Give us a good speech!”

“Speech, speech!” came the echo from several others.

Judy flashed a playful smile and gave Nick a wink when he glanced her way. “Come on, Nick,” she said quietly, so only he could hear, “From your heart.”

A look of quiet introspection came over his face in that moment and he gave a nearly imperceptible nod to her in reply before raising his eyes to the company once more. He cleared his throat again, pausing to look over the faces of his gathered comrades, waiting a moment for them to fall silent. There was real sense of anticipation, Judy noticed, as Nick prepared to speak.

“All my life, I've wanted to be a part of something bigger than myself, to live for the sake of a greater cause. I want all of you to know that even though I might joke around a lot and seem to take things less seriously than the Chief in particular thinks I ought to,” Nick said, punctuating his comment with a nod to Bogo who smirked in response. “I never take the honor of being a ZPD officer lightly, nor do I take lightly the privilege of serving alongside such an excellent cadre of animals as you.”

Complete silence had fallen over the table, all eyes fixed on Nick as he continued. “Most of all, let me express my gratitude to my partner, Judy Hopps,” he said, his voice steady, but slightly lower than before, “She's the finest cop I've ever known, without whom I would never have had the guts to become an officer in the first place. So here's to you all...cheers!”

They all raised their glasses, then tapped them on the table and took a swig together. Bogo reached over and patted Nick's shoulder, giving a slight nod, “Bravo, Wilde.”

Nick plunked himself back in his seat, turned to Judy with a mildly bashful smile. “How was that?” he asked quietly, his eyes searching hers.

“Beautiful,” she replied, her voice a reverent hush.

A few minutes of melodic music and quiet conversation around the table intervened before Judy noticed that both her glass and Nick's were empty. Seeing her opportunity, she seized his paw and pulled him from his seat. “Come to the bar with me, Nick!” she said, “We need refills!”

She led him to a pair of stools at one end of the bar, climbing up on one and patting the other with her paw, her enthusiasm tinged with beer buzz. Nick clambered up onto the stool beside her.

“A Fox's Fiddle Ale and a Bunnyburrow Shandy, please!” Judy said to the bartender, who nodded and pulled a pair of glasses from the rack.

“They do have servers here, Carrots...” Nick said, regarding her with a bemused smirk.

“I know,” she said, reaching into her pocket, “But I wanted it to be just the two of us when I gave you this...I actually debated for a long time whether I should, but somehow I just felt like you'd want it back.” As she spoke, she withdrew her paw and held it out to him; in the center of her white furred palm sat his old badge, a deformed hole punched in its edge from the bullet that nearly killed him.

His eyes widened and he stared at it for a moment before reaching with faintly trembling fingers and taking it from her paw. He held it in his own, studying it in the warm glow of the carriage lamps behind the bar. “Thank you, Judy...” he said, his voice a reverent whisper.

Suddenly, he was snapped from his reverie by a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see a twenty something white tail doe, one of the servers, standing at his elbow with a tray balanced on her hoof. In the center of the tray stood a squat glass, filled with ice and a golden amber liquor and garnished with a lemon twist.

“Pardon me, sir,” said the doe, “A Rusty Nail, courtesy of the lady with the fiddle.” She gestured toward the stage, and Nick and Judy both turned in their seats to see the vixen, leaning on the railing that partially surrounded the stage, her bow dangling from her paw. When she locked eyes with Nick, she smiled demurely and winked.

Nick's eyes went wide and he glanced at Judy; she looked completely crushed, her ears falling flat against her back and her eyes dropping to her paws, which she began wringing between her knees.

With a look of resolution, he turned back to the server, holding up his paw. “Would you please take it to the lady and tell her I'm flattered,” he said, “but I must decline.”

Upon hearing his words, Judy's ears shot straight up and she blinked in astonishment. When Nick turned back to her, he found a look of wonder and elation he couldn't have imagined if he tried.

The young doe blinked in surprise, glancing from Judy to Nick before nodding and strolling across the pub toward the stage. Judy watched out of the corner of her eye as the server approached the fiddler, a look of confusion spreading across the vixen's lovely features. The doe gave her the glass, then leaned in and whispered briefly in the vixen's ear. Whatever she had said, it caused the vixen's jaw to drop open slightly and an utterly mortified expression to overtake her face. Judy couldn't help but feel inwardly pleased at that.

Her heart sank again, however, as she saw the vixen set aside the drink, hop down from the stage and make a bee line across the pub right toward them. Judy's ears instinctively dropped back, though her expression hardened into one of determination; if it was a fight she wanted, Judy would deliver in spades.

The young vixen stopped in front of the two of them, her paws clutched in front of her and a look of embarrassment rather than defiance on her face. She bowed slightly, her ears folded down, “Please forgive me!” she said quickly in a lilting brogue, “I didn't realize you two were...” She cut herself off, glancing at Judy; a look of shock suddenly overtook her. “ _Oh begorrah, you're Judy Hopps!_ Now I really feel the fool!” she blurted, looking flustered as a flush overtook her ears.

“This is my cue to use the little boys room,” Nick said, rising from his stool and placing a paw on Judy's shoulder, “Be back in a few, Carrots.”

Judy and the vixen stared at one another for an awkwardly long moment before the latter held out her paw. “Eileen Reynard,” she said, “It's a real honor to meet you, Officer Hopps. We predators owe you an awful lot.”

Judy shook her paw, a slight smile returning to her muzzle. “It was...I was just doing my job, that's all,” Judy said, her ears staying back, though there weren't pressed down so tightly any more, “I could never have done it without Nick.”

Eileen clasped her paws in front of her again, her ears still folded down as well. “Oh, you must think me such a tart!” she said apologetically, “I was just so taken when I laid eyes on him that I didn't even see he was yer fella.”

Judy's smile broadened slightly at that. “You don't think it's weird or anything…?” she asked, wondering in the same moment why she did.

A lilting laugh escaped Eileen's throat and she flashed a broad, friendly smile, her ears perking up spontaneously. “Oh darlin' it's the twenty first century! Who cares about such things? Besides...” she said, regarding Judy with a slight tilt of her head, her paws coming to rest on her hips, “Most folk think us foxes are just a brood o' tramps and hawkers. I think it says a fair bit about you that you should look deeper than the fur.” She glanced to the back of the pub, toward where Nick had gone before she added, “He seems a proper gentlemammal, I'd say.”

Judy's ears perked up in response to Eileen's open, easy manner. “He is. He's one of the most noble mammals I've ever met,” she said quietly.

“Tell you what, darlin': I'll see that the band plays a dancing tune if you'll get yer fella out an' welt the floor together,” Eileen said, punctuating her comment with a wink. “A pleasure to meet you, Officer Hopps,” she added as she turned on her heel and headed back to the stage.

Nick returned moments later, slipping onto his stool and taking a long swig of his frothy ale. He glanced at Judy, setting his glass down. “Well, there's no blood on the floor and both of you seem to be fully intact, so I gather all is well?” he asked, looking her over and casting a quick glance to the stage.

Judy nodded, taking up her glass and downing a long swig, hoping for a little liquid courage to bolster her for what she was about to do. She set her glass down for a moment, then lifted it and held it toward him. “Here's to you, Nick,” she said softly.

“Here's to _us_ ,” he replied, clinking his glass with hers.

Just then, Eileen stepped to the mic on stage. “Oi, listen up!” she said, raising her bow, “You fine mammals may not know it, but we've heroes among us this evening— _you know who y'are!_ This tune is for them. Let's have you all up on your legs for this one!” She stepped back and the wolfhound stepped forward, calling the count and striking up the band with a flurry on his drum. In a moment the pub was flooded with a wild, raucous tune, its bouncing beat drawing many a patron to the dance floor.

Nick looked on with a faint smile, his paw tapping out the beat on the bar. Judy summoned her courage, girding herself a moment before she reached out and snatched his paw, hopping down from her stool and pulling him out on on the floor, “Come on, sly fox; let's see if you dance as well as you talk!”

Nick laughed as he half stumbled his way out with her, but once in the middle of the floor, he boldly wrapped one arm around her back, the other clasping her paw. “As you like it, Miss Hopps,” he said, his eyes locking with hers. In moments they were jigging and reeling around the floor, neither really knowing what they were doing, though they were well beyond caring, letting the music simply carry them away.

They were joined in short order by several of their company and the night wore on, awash in music and good cheer. A few hours and several pints later, their legs aching and their heads buzzing, Nick and Judy made their way toward the door. Bogo and several of the others had left an hour earlier, and they now parted ways with Wolford and Fangmeyer just outside the pub.

The evening air was brisk and it was only a few blocks walk to Judy's apartment building on Banyan street, so they turned and plodded their way toward it. Feeling Judy's unsteady gait, Nick slipped his paw into hers and found to his delight that she nestled a bit closer against his arm, walking that way all the way to her front steps. The tromped up and went inside.

Judy let out a bubbling giggle, leaning on Nick for support as they slowly plodded their way up the stairs inside her apartment building. One of her ears drooped slightly, making her look even more lopsided as she clung to his arm. She turned a bleary gaze toward him, cracking a crooked smile, “You know, I'm feelin' a lil bit tipsy here, Mister Fox...and you're not...even _anything!_ ” She punctuated her observation by poking him awkwardly in the chest.

He shrugged, a broad smile curling along his muzzle. “I've been at this a bit longer than you, Carrots...besides, I'm feeling the buzz, believe me,” he said, casting an affectionate glance at her. She slid her arm around his waist, curling her paw over his hip. He in turn slipped his arm around her, letting his paw come to rest over her far shoulder. He gave a gentle snug, pressing her against his side as they rounded the corner at the top of the stairs.

A forlorn expression crossed her face as they reached her door, and she stepped out in front of him, taking his paws in hers. At length she raised her eyes to meet his and smiled warmly, “Thanks, Nick. I really had a great time this evening...and congrats on your medal!”

“I did too,” he said, his voice hushed, “The medal is great, but it's nothing compared to you giving me my badge back...thanks for that, Carrots.”

Her ears perked and she regarded him with a quizzical tilt of her head. “Your old badge? Really? Why…?”

He smiled warmly at her, his thumb absently stroking over the back of her paw. He glanced away before he spoke, “Because it's the badge you pinned on me yourself on graduation day, the one I sweated and bled for. It's a reminder of the happiest day of my life...”

Her eyes widened, but a sudden realization brought a grave frown to her delicate features, her ears drooping slightly. “But now, after what happened, it's a reminder of the _worst_ day of your life...” she said, her voice hushed and sombre.

He shook his head. “Oh, I wouldn't put it that way,” he said, tenderly lifting her chin with a finger and gazing into her eyes, “It reminds me that on the worst day of my life, what could have been the _last_ _day_ , you never left my side. That's worth more than all the medals in the world, Carrots.”

A hot blush rose in her ears and she glanced at the door, her paws still clasping his. “All I have to offer you is tea...it isn't much, but maybe...” She trailed off, letting the invitation hang between them unfinished.

He shook his head, giving her paws a squeeze, “No thanks, Carrots. I'm not crossing this threshold with you tonight. The perfect ending to this perfect evening will be you safely inside, and me heading home.”

She glanced at him, looking momentarily downcast, but she suddenly bounded up and slung her arm around his neck, delivering a quick, tender kiss to his cheek before dropping back down. He blinked in astonishment as she chuckled, a faintly bashful smile curling her muzzle.

He was about to speak when he saw another look wash over her face: one of surprise mixed with realization. Before he could say a word, she jumped and slung both her arms around his neck, her supple lips caressing his in a very different sort of kiss than the first. He felt a spark and a thrill, a heady bewilderment swimming in his brain. Before he could think clearly enough to react, she had dropped back again, just out of reach of his paws, and stood regarding him with a devilish smile. “You're too sweet for your own good sometimes, Mr. Wilde,” she said, fishing her keys from her pocket and turning to unlock the door.

As the door swung wide, all trace of tenderness, affection and peace was torn from that moment as a clutching, desperate dread flooded in like a deluge. A tall figure with rounded prick ears, its form cloaked in shadow and haloed in pale moonlight loomed in front of her open window at the far end of the room. As they stared wide-eyed, icy claws of horror clasping around their minds, the figure's black lips curled back into a grotesque mockery of a jagged smile, revealing rows of gleaming white, deadly sharp teeth.

“ _Hello, darlings..._ ” the shadow said, its voice guttural and tinged with malice. It punctuated its statement with an all too familiar sound: the cocking of a revolver.

A frozen instant passed; Nick screamed within himself to move, to grab Judy, to do anything to get them away from the death that hovered a mere hammer drop away, but he was paralyzed. He felt a sudden, violent jolt as the night lit up with fire and thunder, but as the initial shock faded, he found himself sprawled on the floor beside the doorway with Judy on top of him. She had tackled him out of the way at the last possible instant and saved both their lives, at least for the moment.

His wits returned to him, along with a rising sense of panic, and Nick grabbed Judy under the arms, scrambling to his feet and dashing down the hall in the direction of the fire escape. He pumped his legs furiously, feeling like the hallway was ten miles long. His focus was riveted on the fire door that was just too far away.

Another shot tore through the night stillness, splintering the door frame inches from his head as Nick slammed into the crash bar and burst through the door. Cruel, hollow laughter echoed through the halls, driving them on. Cradling Judy against his chest, he all but threw himself down the stairs.

As they reached the first landing, Judy stumbled apart from him, landing on her toes. He faltered, but she grabbed him by the arm and tugged him toward the door a half a flight below. “There's a fire axe in the next hall,” she said, “It might be our only chance!”

Together they crashed through the door, tumbling in a heap on the bare floorboards on the other side. Nick scrambled to his footpaws, frantically looking around for the fire axe cabinet. He spotted it just to the right of the stairwell door and lunged for it, slamming his elbow into the breakaway glass cover. Gripping the large axe tightly in both paws, he crouched by the door, his breaths coming in desperate pants.

“Judy!” he hissed, “Get behind me and call for backup, _now!_ ”

She scooted over behind him, pulling out her phone and rapidly dialing 9-1-1. It rang twice before the operator picked up.

“9-1-1 Emergency; police, fire, or ambulance?” came a feminine voice.

“Police!” Judy said sharply, trying to keep her voice hushed. She glanced around rapidly, watching their backs while Nick covered the door with the axe.

“Patching you through, stay on the line,” the dispatcher said, a hint of urgency creeping into her voice.

A few seconds passed before Clawhauser came on. “ZPD Dispatch,” he said, though his voice lacked its usual jovial tone, “What's your emergency?”

“Clawhauser, it's Hopps! Shots fired, we need help at my place - Grand Pangolin Arms, Banyan Street, we're on the second floor, main hallway. Subject is still armed, position unknown.”

“Oh! Oh! Thank goodness you're okay!” Clawhauser stammered, “The cavalry is already on the way—we got calls a couple minutes ago about the shots—you just sit tight and stay safe!”

“Nick is with me. I don't think either of us is hit, just please hurry!” she said, her voice a sharp whisper, “I can't stay on the phone; it might give us away.”

“No wait—” Clawhauser protested, but she ended the call. The sound of distant sirens reached her ears as she set her phone to silent and tucked it into her back pocket. Suddenly she noticed Nick sinking to one knee, his breaths coming in strained gasps.

Without a word she stepped forward and took the axe from his paws, resting it over her shoulder. She slipped her arm around his back and guided him to a sitting position against the wall. He winced in pain, clutching his chest, though his breathing slowed and normalized. He opened his eyes and looked into hers. “It's too big for you, Carrots...I...I can handle it...I'll protect you...” he said, the anguish in his voice obvious even in a whisper.

She gritted her teeth, her grip tightening around the axe handle. “It's okay, Nick...I'll bury this axe in the bastard's gut before I let him hurt you,” she said, all hint of fear gone from her voice, replaced by steely determination.

They fell into silence, the waiting an agonized eternity. Outside, the wail of sirens came closer and closer until they heard them stop outside the building. Still they waited, their ears twitching at every sound, the pervasive silence almost smothering. Every muscle and sinew in Judy's body was wire tight, preparing to drive the fire axe deep into the flesh of the animal hunting them should he be foolish enough to step through the door. Finally, her ears twitched and locked on the doorway; she heard quiet, methodical footsteps in the stairwell beyond.

Closer and closer they crept, the attempt at stealth futile against her keen hearing. At last there was a pause; whoever it was stood just on the other side of the door.

“ZPD! Who's out there?” came Ramsay's voice from the stairwell.

Judy breathed a deep sigh of relief, letting the axe slip off her shoulder and rest on the floor. “Ramsay, it's Hopps and Wilde, we're okay,” she called, glancing at Nick.

Ramsay's compact, muscular form with his thick, curling horns emerged from the stairwell followed by his partner, a thirty-something cheetah named Jon Swift. Ramsay's uniform bore the same crisp neatness Judy remembered from the hospital, yet instead of the wistful, pained expression from that day, his face bore a look of deadly determination.

Swift was a tall, muscularly built cheetah, the visual antithesis of Clawhauser. His uniform was crisply pressed like that of his partner, and his ruddy brown eyes bore a similar steely look. The senior officer to Ramsay as she was to Nick, his impact on his probie was obvious. He and Ramsay moved with quick precision, clearing the corners and sweeping the area to ensure there was no threat.

Having ensured all was clear, Ramsay moved over to Nick and Judy. Nick flashed a relieved grin at his friend, “Never thought I'd be so happy to see your ugly mug, Dan,”

“You two all right?” he asked, looking them over, his gun at the low ready, “You're not hit, are you?”

They shook their heads. Ramsay smiled and clapped Nick on the shoulder with a broad hoof. “Yeah, I shoulda known,” he said, his grim expression replaced by a friendly grin, “Ol Slick Nick's practically bullet proof.”

Nick snorted, rising to a stand, “Yeah, I wish. Unfortunately I found out the hard way that's not true.”

“There are two other teams sweeping the place,” Ramsay said, “Let's get you two downstairs to safety. Guess you don't have your chunks?”

Again they both shook their heads. Ramsay reached down to his ankle, pulling up on his trouser leg and tugging a small automatic pistol from an ankle holster. He handed the gun to Nick. “Here,” he said, “It's ready to rock.” He glanced at his partner who stood guarding the door. “Swift, you got a backup?” he asked.

The cheetah crept on silent paws to his partner's side. “You know it,” he said. Kneeling, he pulled out a small snub nosed .357 magnum revolver from a similar ankle holster and handed it to Judy. “I figure it suits you,” he said with a grin, “Small, but it packs a hell of a punch.”

“Four mammal clearing drill, single file. You two ready?” Ramsay asked, glancing between Nick and Judy. They gripped their pistols and moving into position, forming a single line with Ramsay at the front and Swift at the rear.

“Go!” Ramsay said, leading off at a brisk pace toward the door. They stacked up beside it briefly before he pressed his shoulder into it and rapidly pushed it open, sweeping inside. They followed, winding their way down the stairs, each covering a different arc to provide defense in all directions. As they reached the lobby, they could see the red and blue lights from the squad cars in front flooding through the windows.

One last swift movement across the lobby and they were out the door. Ramsay led them across the street to a paddy wagon parked at the curb on the far side. He crouched behind it with them. “Swift and I are going back in to help the others clear the place,” he said, “You two will be safe behind here.”

“We can help you,” Judy said, “We're fine.”

Swift shook his head, “Naw, you guys aren't in uniform; it's safer this way to avoid any blue on blue. Besides, you've had a hell of a night already.”

Judy hesitated a moment, then handed the gun back to Swift. Nick did the same, giving his pistol back to Ramsay. “Just be careful in there you guys,” Judy said, “This one is a real sicko.”

Ramsay and Swift departed without another word, sweeping back across the street and into the front doors of the building, leaving Nick and Judy alone beside the wagon. They stood with their backs pressed against the cold steel of the prisoner box, their rapid breaths gradually slowing as the adrenaline dissipated from their blood.

As quiet descended over them, Judy reached out and took Nick's paw. In response, he pulled her into his arms, clutching her against his chest, one paw wrapped around her back while the other spread through the fur at the back of her head. He rested his chin between her ears, and she felt his muzzle part as if he was about to speak, but he closed it again and held her just a little tighter.

She slipped her paws up and clutched at the back of his shirt, burying her face in his chest, letting the sweet, comforting familiarity of his scent drown out the terror they had just faced together. “I'm okay, Nick...I'm okay,” she said, sensing that he needed to hear it from her.

She focused on the steady thudding of his heart, listening as it slowly decreased in tempo, until at last she felt calm flow through his form, his taut muscles relaxing beneath her paws. She let her eyes slip closed, willfully losing herself in that moment, in the safety and acceptance of his embrace. Suddenly, she felt a few drops land amid the soft fur at the crown of her head, but above them, a million stars blazed in a dark, cloudless sky.


	10. Chapter 10

With a sigh, Wolfram stepped onto the balcony at the end of the Zooicide office, the cool night air enveloping him as he strolled to the railing. Pulling out his pack of cigarettes, he plucked one with his teeth and proceeded to strike up his zippo and light it. He exhaled a wispy, billowing cloud into the evening air and stared out over the city lights, a gentle breeze ruffling through his mane as he rolled over the day's events in his mind.

After surveilling Hornady at the Palm for another hour or so, both he and Mundi were convinced of two things: first, that he was a severe gambling addict, and second that he was involved in the burglary at the very least. They had returned to the station and spent the remainder of the evening drawing up an operational plan for surveillance on him. They would have liked to get wiretaps authorized, but the probable cause was a bit thin yet for that. Wolfram had insisted Mundi go home at the end of the shift while he remained to finish the ops plans; after all, nobody was waiting for him to return.

The news from the crime lab, courtesy of Nick and Judy, was a welcome break in the case. The appearance of Harbinger was most definitely connected to the burglary, and the transformation from miracle medicine to devastating designer narcotic was just the kind of chemical wizardry that only a genius like Hornady could pull off, not to mention that it was Hornady himself who had discovered the antidote in the first place, only to have his credit stolen by Manyara. There was a missing piece of the puzzle, though, which scratched at the back of Wolfram's brain; the mystery shooter who took the time to attempt to murder two police officers when he could have gotten away with the loot totally unseen. A mystery shooter who may have known Nick personally.

Wolfram found his thoughts wandering, perhaps a result of fatigue, to Nick and Judy. He had heard about Nick's decoration for bravery and that Chief Bogo himself had arranged for a night at the pub to celebrate it, even going so far as to spring for a round. He figured they were all probably still at the pub at that moment, or perhaps just finishing up. It brought a faint smile to his muzzle to know that the two of them were having a reprieve from the darkness that had recently engulfed their lives.

Much to his surprise, he found he had a growing professional regard, perhaps even personal affinity for the two of them. They were unlikely cops, even more unlikely friends, and yet both roles seemed to come so naturally to them. He hadn't spent much time with both of them together, and yet even in the very brief interaction he had observed, there was an undercurrent, subtle, yet powerful, that spoke of some kind of deep connection. He considered swinging by McGuffin's on his way home to see if any of the officers were still around.

Suddenly, his reverie was interrupted by the ringing and buzzing of his phone. He nearly dropped his cigarette he was so startled, having been deeply entrenched in his own meandering thoughts. He pulled the phone from his pocket and tapped the answer button, shifting his smoke to the corner of his mouth. “Wolfram here, go ahead,” he said, his mind already turning to the most likely cause of the call: a murder.

“Detective Wolfram, it's Clawhauser!” came the agitated voice from the other end, “You're the one assigned to Wilde's case, right?!”

Wolfram frowned, “Lt. Mundi and I, yes...”

“I just got off the phone with Judy; someone was in her apartment when she got home and tried to kill her and Nick!”

“What?!” Wolfram said, his eyes widening as his cigarette dropped to the ground.

“Black and whites are already on the way, sir, and when I talked to her, she and Nick were fine, but she hung up on me, said it was too dangerous. I just thought you should know,” Clawhauser said, speaking in the rapid fire manner only a panicked cheetah could.

Wolfram was across the patio in three steps, the phone still in his paw. “Thanks, I'm on my way!” he said, hanging up and shoving his phone back in his pocket.

He dashed down the dimly lit hallway to his office, throwing open the door and flicking on the light. He moved behind his desk where his scene kit was tucked away, grabbing it and spinning on his heel. It was then that something caught his attention and he stopped short; there was a large manilla envelope sitting in the inbox on the corner of his desk that hadn't been there when he'd left that afternoon. He'd been working in Mundi's office on the surveillance ops plan, and so hadn't had the chance to see it previously. He examined it more closely and found that it bore the return address of the Interpol Field Office.

He paused and set his bag aside, lifting the envelope and quickly tearing it open. Inside was a thick file jacket marked 'Law Enforcement Sensitive: For Official Use Only.' He opened it and found that it was the file he requested on Jack Hargrieve. He briefly scanned it, flipping through the pages and catching the jist of the information. A chill ran up his spine and his eyes widened the more he read. “ _Oh shit..._ ” he breathed.

Tucking the file under his arm, he snatched his bag and dashed out the door, not even bothering to close it. Within minutes he was tearing out of the parking lot, police light flashing and siren blaring above the roar of the engine and the screeching of tires. There was little traffic left on the streets, so he took the middle lane and opened it up.

Lights and parked cars whizzed past as he tore through the streets; he knew the black and whites would have arrived first, but Nick and Judy's lives were hanging in the balance, and every gun in the fight could mean the difference between life and death. He gritted his teeth, glancing at the file on the seat beside him; the contents of that file were far worse than he could have imagined, and he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that maybe if Nick and Judy had known about it sooner, this might not have happened.

_Delta three, friendlies extracted, heading back in._

Swift's broadcast suddenly broke over the vehicle mounted radio, eliciting a sharp sigh of relief from Wolfram as he lifted his footpaw from the accelerator, slowing the car's breakneck pace. A few moments passed and there was no call for medivac, so he felt assured that at least they weren't seriously injured. He weaved around a slow-trundling minivan ahead, continuing code three – there were other reasons he needed to get there fast.

He snatched up the handset of his car's radio, keying the mic. “This is Wolfram, I'm en route, eta five mikes – you guys got a canine officer on site?” he said.

 _Barkley here, sir,_ came the reply.

“Take Swift and Ramsay and see if you can track the bastard! Just be careful,” he said, then snapped the handset back onto its cradle and carved the car around a turn, drifting through it without lifting his footpaw from the gas.

He rolled up and screeched to a halt in front of the Grand Pangolin Arms within minutes. He cut the engine, shut off the siren, scooped up the file from his seat and jumped out of the car. As he slammed the door, Officer Fleetwood, an attractive white tail doe in her late twenties, approached him, ducking under the police line tape that blocked off the area immediately in front of the building. A growing crowd of onlookers was milling about at the edge of the perimeter.

“Detective Wolfram?” Fleetwood asked, extending her hoof, “Heard your call, sir; good to—”

“What's their status?” Wolfram demanded, cutting her off.

“Wh...Wilde and Hopps? They're fine. They're in the mobile command post,” Fleetwood said, somewhat taken aback by Wolfram's urgency.

Wolfram perked a brow, “Who thought to bring out the CP?”

“I drove it here, sir; I figured it would be needed, even if there wasn't a ranking officer to fill it yet,” Fleetwood said, her tone more reserved after having encountered Wolfram's brusk manner.

A faint smile spread across Wolfram's muzzle and he patted her shoulder as he passed, heading for the CP door, “Well, I'm not that, but I guess I'll have to do for the moment. Good thinking, Officer.”

Fleetwood blinked a few times, unsure of exactly what to make of that.

Wolfram headed for the door with long strides. He stepped up and grabbed the door handle, but something made him release it and knock three times before he opened it. He wondered briefly about his reason for that as he stepped in, but moments later the relief he felt at seeing Nick and Judy sitting side by side, apparently unharmed, washed the first thought away. He let out a faint sigh and closed the door behind him, regarding them both with a placid smile.

The interior of the large cube van was a mobile office with various communication and surveillance equipment, a table with an office chair, and a seating area with a large flatscreen for briefings. Nick and Judy were sitting on one of the bench seats.

“You're starting to make a habit of this,” he said, moving to sit in the office chair. “I'm glad neither of you is hurt this time,” he said in a softer tone, regarding them with an incisive, albeit sympathetic gaze.

“You and me both,” Nick said, managing a faint smile, “It was close.”

“You get a good look at the shooter?” Wolfram asked.

Nick and Judy both shook their heads.

“I've got Barkley tracking him with Swift and Ramsay...hopefully they turn something up,” he said, then paused briefly, studying Nick for a moment before he added, “I have something I think you need to see.” He placed the folder on the table, turning it and sliding it across the table for them to read.

Nick's ears perked and swung toward Wolfram. Judy's did the same. Nick rose first, stepping to the edge of the table and resting his paw on it. He glanced at Judy briefly as she stepped to his side, regarding him with a pensive, quizzical look. Slowly, he slipped the fingers of his other paw inside the file jacket and flipped it open.

“It's Interpol's file on Jack Hargrieve; I had a hunch he might have fled Zootopia after the...incident we discussed,” Wolfram said with a brief glance to Judy, “So I put in a request with my contacts at the Feds and Interpol...this is what came back. I only just saw it now on my way out of the office...I wish I'd been able to show you sooner. Shortly after he left Zootopia, he made his way to northern Africa and the middle east where he started up his life of crime again. Only this time, he very quickly got himself involved in working as a mercenary in various small scale conflicts. That could explain how he came in contact with Jonah Hawthorne - Jonah worked as a PMC for a while after he got out of the army.”

The first page of the dossier was a biographical data sheet with an aged, yellow-edged photograph of a young, slender, but well toned hyena with ashy gray fur. He seemed to be perhaps in his early twenties, with black forearms and paws, black spots, and a wild black mane that jutted from between his ears, running down the back of his head. His eyes were bloody crimson, with a hardened, cruel, mirthless quality to them, and he wore a malicious grin on his muzzle. It appeared to be a booking mugshot, but not of the type that would be taken by ZPD. Judy assumed it must be a foreign mugshot.

Judy watched Nick as his eyes scanned rapidly down the page, only to pause and narrow slightly near the middle. She followed his gaze and looked over the section he seemed to be stopped on – it was a physical identifiers entry. There were three notes under the heading: filed incisors, notches left ear, scar right jaw.

Nick quickly flipped the page, reading on; the next page was a list of charges. Judy's eyes went wide when she saw it.

“This...this is insane...what kind of a monster...” Judy whispered, glancing at Nick. He wore a pained expression.

“The guy is a real sicko...he got the nick name 'Laughing Jack' because apparently he gets his jollies by causing suffering. He's wanted for crimes against animalia in several countries. Murder, torture, dismemberment...females... _children_...you name it,” Wolfram continued, a sneer of disgust curling his muzzle, “He filed his incisors to make them sharper, because he has a habit of sometimes using his _teeth_ on his victims...enjoys the taste of blood.”

Judy furrowed her brow, her voice a horrified whisper, “Are you saying he _eats_ his victims?”

Wolfram met her gaze, “Unconfirmed. I wouldn't put it past this sick bastard, though. Interpol also has reason to believe that this guy worked as an agent of the Serpentian Security Authority in several proxy conflicts, and likely received extensive training from them.”

“He was trained by the SSA?!” Judy said, staring at Wolfram in disbelief, “Why would the Serpentians use a mammal as their agent? They barely tolerate us at the best of times...”

Wolfram shrugged, “Plausible deniability? Maybe they just liked him – the son of a bitch is as cold blooded and ruthless as any of those reptiles. Interpol lost track of him several months ago...they thought he might possibly be in the Rawrssian Federation somewhere, maybe worming his way into the mob there. He must have used a false identity to sneak back into Zootopia, otherwise Immigration and Customs Enforcement would have caught him at the airport.”

Nick winced and gritted his teeth, his lip curling back very briefly. He quickly turned the next page. It was a collection of surveillance shots of Hargrieve, mostly from a distance, but there was one closeup that showed a semi profile; it clearly showed the long scar that reached from his jaw bone up to his right cheek. His blood red eyes bore a look of malevolence Judy had never before seen in the eyes of an animal, not even the predators under the influence of Night Howler toxin. His lip was curled back into a cruel, grotesque, unnatural grin, one she found hauntingly familiar.

Planting his paws on either side of the file, Nick's head bowed slightly, his unblinking eyes fixed on the photograph as his breaths came faster and more ragged. He seemed to be in pain, the corners of his muzzle curled into a grimace that revealed a few of his teeth.

Wolfram noticed Nick's agitation, his ochre gaze locking on the fox. When he spoke, his voice was low, but steady. “You know him, don't you, Nick?” he said.

Nick grabbed his forehead, clenching his eyes shut, his breaths becoming desperate, ragged gasps. “I...I need air...” he said, his voice weaker and more hoarse than usual.

“Nick, are you okay?” Judy said, gently placing her paw over his shoulder, her sense of alarm rapidly growing. He seemed to be having a panic attack of some kind.

He growled in pain, pushing past her and shoving open the door. He lunged into the street, with Judy following on his heels. Wolfram rose from his seat, but remained within the CP, watching them both intently.

Outside, Nick was standing a few feet from the door, clutching his head in both paws and sucking back deep gasps of air as if he had just been drowning.

Judy approached slowly, but resolutely. With cautious, searching fingers she slipped her paw over his arm, standing by his side and speaking in a gentle but measured tone. “It's okay, Nick...” she said, watching him as his breathing gradually slowed and his fingers unclenched from the fur on his head, “I'm here. Talk to me.”

“ _It's him..._ ” Nick whispered, his emerald eyes turning to meet her gaze, “Hargrieve is the shooter.”

“You knew…?” Judy asked, her mind reeling, “I don't understand...”

“He wasn't ready to remember,” Wolfram said. They turned to see him standing in the door, “For whatever reason, his memory of Hargrieve was so painful and disturbing to him that his mind blanked it out. I guess the combination of what happened tonight and seeing the file was enough to bring it back.”

Nick half turned toward Wolfram, glancing at the detective, then back to Judy, “It was the scar...for some reason the scar was the key that brought the memory flooding back into my mind. When I saw that picture...I _knew_ it was him...both at the lab, and tonight.”

Judy gave a gentle squeeze to Nick's forearm, then nodded toward the open door. She turned and headed in. He followed, rubbing his forehead a few times before reaching up and stepping inside. Wolfram had resumed his seat.

“Well,” Nick said, crossing his arms and leaning his back against the wall, “Now that we know what we're up against, what's our next move?”

“ _Your_ next move should be for the two of you to get some sleep,” Wolfram said, leaning back in his chair, “I think maybe you should stay at the station for tonight; we don't know how Hargrieve found out where you live – it's possible he's got you two under surveillance and knows where Nick's place is too. One of the patrol units can drive you there.”

“Gee, thanks _dad_ ,” Nick said with a smirk, “When's the last time _you_ had any sleep?”

Wolfram chuckled, giving a nonchalant shrug, “Comes with the territory; don't go into Zooicide if you like getting proper sleep.” He stood up to go, but added, “Listen, Nick...the department is behind both of you. We're not going to let Hargrieve get away with this. You guys just take it easy for tonight and let us take care of it.”

Nick seemed about to speak, but he held back, studying Wolfram for a moment. “Thanks, Eli,” he said at length, cracking a faint smile.

Wolfram nodded, then flashed a smile at Judy, “Have a good night, Judy. I'll catch you guys up tomorrow with whatever we find.” With that, he stepped out the door and shut it behind him.

Unfortunately, the two hours of investigation that followed yielded precious little. A careful examination of Judy's apartment revealed that Hargrieve had scaled the outer wall of the building, jimmying open her window and crawling inside. He had left a few strands of fur behind, and they had managed to get samples of burnt powder from the wall just outside her door and dig out the slug from the frame of the stairwell door, all of which would be helpful if they could get him in court, but not much use in actually catching him.

Barkley, Swift and Ramsay had managed to track him out the back of the building to a nearby alley, but the trail suddenly ended – he had gotten into a pre-positoned getaway vehicle. What was worse was that an examination of the traffic cams using the remote uplink in the mobile command post revealed that Hargrieve had parked it in a dead zone where there was no traffic or security camera coverage, making the vehicle nearly impossible to identify. Witnesses were of little use – plenty of Judy's neighbors had heard the shots, but none had dared to poke their heads out of their apartments to see what was going on.

Out of evidence to pursue, Wolfram slammed his fist onto the table in the CP and leaned back, running his fingers through his mane and sighing sharply in frustration. At length, he stood up with a look of resolution and stepped out.

Fleetwood saw him exit the vehicle and noticed the scowl on his face. “Sir?” she said, striding over to him and regarding him quizically, “You okay, Detective Wolfram?”

He pulled out his pack of smokes, tapping it on his palm as if he was going to pull one out, but suddenly he shoved them back into his pocket. He glanced at Fleetwood, “Yeah...yeah, I'm fine. I've got something to take care of. Make sure CSI forwards all their evidence to Lieutenant Mundi in Zooicide. You guys can finish up here and take the CP back to the yard.” He turned and headed for his car, his paws buried in his trouser pockets.

“Bu..but where are you going, sir? It's nearly three in the morning!” Fleetwood called after him, a look of confusion and concern on her delicate features.

“Following a hunch,” Wolfram called back over his shoulder, then jumped in his car and slammed the door. The engine rumbled to life and he pulled away, turning and disappearing down a nearby alley.

Wolfram's muzzle was set in a grim sneer, his fists clenched tightly on the wheel. He was headed for the seediest part of town, a dilapidated slum not far from the docks in Savannah Central, to one bar in particular – The Rusty Herring. It was a well known hangout for muggers, drug pushers, pimps and other assorted low life scum. He knew it was risky and ethically questionable, but then he'd never exactly been a 'by the book' kind of cop.

He parked his car on the street under a lamp post on the next block over, then exited and headed down the closest alley. As he emerged at the far end, he saw the ramshackle edifice of the Herring looming ahead. Built on piers at the harbour's edge, it was as rough looking on the outside as the criminal clientele inside. As he approached, he saw a long row of motorcycles parked out front, all bearing support stickers for a local outlaw motorcycle gang. He sneered at them and kicked over the first one, sending it crashing into the next and causing a domino effect and a cacophony of metallic crashing.

When he slammed open the double doors and stepped into the bar, all eyes were already fixed on him, some in rage, some in fear, others in confusion. The interior of the Rusty Herring was as shoddy and run down as the outside. The atmosphere was thick with acrid, stale smoke, the walls dingy and the vinyl upholstery of the booths and chairs ragged and patched in various places with duct tape. A dingy, tattered pool table stood to the left of the door on a raised section of floor that might have been intended for a stage in the bar's less seedy early days.

He glanced briefly around the room, his sneer of disgust never fading. “All right, listen up you bottom feeding scum,” he said, a low growl underpinning his voice, “I'm Detective Eli Wolfram, ZPD, and I have a message to deliver. I'm only going to say this once, so if any of you lowlife dirtbags got a problem with that, you better step up.”

An angry black bear in a black biker vest and a shirt with a bear skull on it, dirty jeans and a thick belt with a buckle shaped like a set of brass knuckles shoved back his chair, stomping up to Wolfram and staring him down. His fists clenched, his lip curling back in a sneer as a low growl escaped his throat.

Cocking back his arm, Wolfram unleashed a crushing straight punch, his fist slamming dead center with a sickening crack into the bear's sensitive nose. The hulking bruin careened backward, blood streaming from his nose and muzzle, and landed with a thunderous crash on a nearby table. It smashed to pieces, sending the two weasels who had occupied it scurrying for cover. The bear lay motionless, knocked out cold, blood spattered over his muzzle and oozing from his broken nose.

His muzzle curling into a vicious snarl, revealing all his teeth, Wolfram addressed the remaining patrons. “ _DO I HAVE YOUR FUCKING ATTENTION!?_ ” he thundered.

Awed silence reigned, every eye in the bar fixed on him.

“Good,” he continued, his snarl fading but not disappearing completely, “Chances are, at least some of you degenerate pukes are members of Blood Fang Posse...and if not, at least one of you knows one. I have a message for their boss, Jack Hargrieve.”

At the mention of Hargrieve's name, a slender jackal sitting in a booth near the back flicked his ear almost imperceptibly. Wolfram caught it, making a quick study of him. He suddenly realized that it was Seth Grimm – he recognized him from the booking photos on his file. There was a shifty looking ram sitting across from him, and when their eyes locked, Grimm whispered something to the ram.

Wolfram continued, staring down each dirtbag in the bar one at a time, “Laughing Jack has now _twice_ attempted to murder my friends. No one shoots a cop in Zootopia and walks free. _NO ONE._ You tell him that I will never relent until he is either dead or rotting in a prison cell, no matter how long it takes, no matter what I have to do. There is nowhere on this earth he can run that I will not hunt him. Nowhere he can hide that I will not find him. Kill me, and my brothers and sisters will hunt him down. He and his little glee club are _finished_.”

With that, he turned sharply on his heel, slinging the door open and walking out.

He paused just outside, lighting up a smoke and taking a deep drag before releasing a wispy cloud and stepping off. He crossed the street, heading back down the alley he had come through. There was a seedy looking goat about mid way down the alley talking on a cell phone. He was dressed in a red track suit with a garish gold medallion on a chain hanging around his neck. He was pretending not to notice, but Wolfram saw the goat glance briefly in his direction. It looked like things weren't going to go smoothly after all.

As he got close, the goat suddenly stepped out and blocked Wolfram's path, whipping out a switchblade and holding it out threateningly with a cruel grin. Wolfram raised his paws, staring back with deadly resolve. Another thug crept up behind him, pressing a pistol against his back and reaching around his belt area. He was looking for Wolfram's gun.

Suddenly, Wolfram spat his cigarette and a cloud of thick smoke into the goat's eyes. In a flash of motion, he grasped his pistol in its shoulder holster and fired, shooting the attacker behind him through his suit jacket. Whipping the pistol from its holster a heartbeat later, he pointed it at the goat's face and pulled the trigger, the bullet drilling a bloody hole between his eyes and blasting a pink cloud out the back of his head. He toppled over dead, his eyes staring blindly at the sky as a crimson pool spread around his head.

Wolfram spun on his heel, pointing his gun at the second attacker, who turned out to be a grizzled timber wolf dressed in jeans and a heavy metal tee shirt. Black blood was oozing heavily from his gut; he was shot in the liver, his impending death a foregone conclusion. He was snarling at Wolfram and reaching for the gun that lay just inches from his paw. With a sneer, Wolfram stepped on his fingers, grinding them into the pavement and eliciting a yelp of pain from the dying wolf.

Kneeling, his footpaw still pinning the wolf's arm, Wolfram scooped up the gun and tucked it in his jacket pocket, then grabbed him by the shirt and wrenched him up. “Start talking, you piece of shit!” he growled, “Where is Hargrieve!?”

A gurgling chuckle escaped the wolf's throat as he grinned at Wolfram with blood stained teeth, “You're dead meat, flatfoot...Laughing Jack is gonna tear you apart.”

He was about to respond when a nearly imperceptible noise behind him sent a flood of adrenaline surging through his blood. Flipping aside, Wolfram narrowly avoided being killed as a gunshot shattered the nighttime quiet, the bullet tearing through the face of the wolf he had just been interrogating. Laying on his back, he returned fire at the shadowy form standing at the end of the alley, narrowly missing as one of his bullets struck the brickwork at the corner of the building.

His pistol slidelocked and he dropped the magazine, slamming a new one home and releasing the slide as he scrambled to his feet. Dashing to the end of the alley, he pointed his gun and ducked low, popping out from cover ready to blast his attacker with a hail of forty five caliber hollowpoints. He saw Grimm veering to the right and dashing into the street. Wolfram squeezed off two shots, but the distance was too far and they struck a mailbox as the jackal dashed behind it.

Grimm returned fire, carelessly pointing his gun in Wolfram's general direction and squeezing off a few rounds, the bullets ricocheting harmlessly off the concrete or striking nearby parked cars. It delayed him just long enough however – when Wolfram managed to reach the alley, Grimm was nowhere to be seen.

“ _Damn it_!” he hissed, his pistol held at the low ready.

He sighed and holstered the pistol, pulling out another cigarette and striking up his zippo. As he puffed it to life and clicked his lighter shut, he mused that although the night had been less than fruitful from an investigative standpoint, at least there were two less Blood Fangs on the streets; his message had been scrawled on the alley pavement by their blood. It was a message Laughing Jack Hargrieve would soon be receiving loud and clear.


	11. Chapter 11

The first sensation that intruded through the dim, placid veil of her sleep was a stinging brightness, a warmth that pushed imperiously through her eyelids. The second was a stiff soreness that ached in her neck and shoulders, but the third was him: his intoxicating scent, the softness of his fur against the tender membranes inside her ears, the feeling of his fingers entwined with hers. Slowly, she opened her eyes, blinking against the morning sunlight that flooded the room. As her vision cleared, so did her sleep addled mind, and remembrance of the previous night came flooding back.

She was sitting by Nick's side on one of the couches in the lounge of the Zooicide Division, her head laid on his shoulder, her ears tucked behind his neck. The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was her right paw entwined with his left, their fingers interlaced, resting in the dip formed as their thighs pressed together. She remembered they had sat down side by side in the lounge and turned on the TV, hoping to distract themselves from the horror they had narrowly escaped. They had talked of simple things, happy events of their childhoods, old friends. Soothed by his closeness, by the rich, comforting baritone of his voice, and overcome with fatigue, she had fallen asleep on his shoulder. She didn't remember taking hold of his paw, but now she was loathe to let go.

Slowly, carefully, she tilted her head to gaze up at him, bringing her nose up under his jaw. It flooded her nostrils even more strongly with his scent, sending an involuntary thrill through her form. Her body was wired to feel fear at that scent, to interpret it as a dire warning that she was in mortal danger, yet so deep was her trust in him that the sensation was transformed into something both reassuring and wonderfully exciting. It dawned on her in that moment that she had never felt so intimate a connection, such a profound sense of acceptance, nor such a solid bond of trust with another animal.

He sat with his head bowed and lips slightly parted as he slept. She had hoped to enjoy that view a little longer, but her movement had caused him to stir. It began as a twitch in his eyelids, followed by his ears, until that motion had worked its way through his whole form to his footpaws and he roused from his peaceful sleep. She smiled as a frown came over his features and he instinctively reached for her with his right paw before realizing he already held her in his left. He matched her smile as their eyes met, and she read relief in their emerald depths.

“Morning, Carrots,” he said softly, a hint of reverence in his tone, “Sleep well?”

“Not really,” she said with a chuckle, rubbing the back of her neck with her left paw before adding, “Waking up like this is just fine, though...”

They stared at one another for a long moment, their noses hovering dangerously close, neither one showing any desire to disentangle their paw from the other. The longer they held each other's gaze, the more they were drawn closer together, dissolving what little distance remained between them.

Three sharp knocks at the door interjected into the intimacy of that breathless moment, causing Judy to jump back from him, a bright blush overtaking her ears. She thrust them down behind her back, clasping her paws in her lap and trying to master her mortification before whoever was knocking made their entrance.

She glanced at Nick, who regarded her with a crestfallen look and a flick of his ear.

“ _You'll get in trouble!” s_ he mouthed silently at him before leaning back on the sofa and trying to look nonchalant.

Nick's bemused smile returned and he leaned back with a faint sigh. “Come on in!” he called.

There was a brief pause before the door opened and Eli Wolfram stepped inside. He looked extremely haggard, an additional button on his shirt left undone and his tie hanging looser than usual. He had dark circles around his eyes, his fur looking ruffled and unkempt. His trousers were dirty at the cuffs and on the seat, and he was missing his suit jacket, leaving his rolled up shirt sleeves and black shoulder holster exposed. As he turned to close the door, Judy noticed there was a dark stain to the left rear of his shirt that looked like charcoal or something similar.

He was holding a pair of bags from Bugburga in one paw and a drink tray with three medium coffees and a smaller bag in the middle. He moved to the coffee table that stood just in front of where Nick and Judy were sitting and placed the bag and the drink tray down. “I figured you guys might be hungry, so I grabbed something for you on the way. Hopps, this one's yours,” he said, handing her one of the bags, “Veggie patty – I'm told they're delicious. Nick, here's yours.”

Nick accepted the bag with a grin, “Thanks, Eli!”

Judy smiled warmly. “Thanks Detective, this is really thoughtful of you,” she said, casting a glance at Nick, “I didn't realize you two were on a first name basis...”

Wolfram tugged one of the cups free from its tray, pulling an armchair closer to the table and settling himself into it with a deep, exhausted sigh. He smiled faintly, “Eli is fine. Obviously we're going to be working closely together for the next little while, especially if you two keep having narrow escapes from death. Oh, by the way, I didn't know how you took your coffee, so cream and sugar are in the little bag.”

“Okay, then, call me Judy,” she said, with a nod, “And thanks for everything, Eli. Last night, too. It means a lot to finally know what we're dealing with.”

He rubbed firmly at the back of his neck, twisting it and stretching it slightly for a moment before he took a sip of his coffee, “I just wish it wasn't someone like Jack Hargrieve...”

Nick perked a brow, stirring the cream into his coffee, “You're looking a little rough, Eli...have you even slept?”

Wolfram shook his head, taking a long swig of his coffee, not deigning to elaborate.

Suddenly Judy's ears perked and her brow knitted as she leaned a little closer, “Is that... _blood_ on your knuckles? What in the world happened last night?”

Lowering his cup, Wolfram glanced from one to the other before releasing a faint sigh. He averted his gaze to the window. “Something I'm liable to be chewed out and possibly suspended for,” he said, tapping his index finger on his coffee cup a few times, “At least there are two less Blood Fangs wasting oxygen, and I'm now certain that Seth Grimm is working with Hargrieve.”

Nick and Judy shot each other looks of grave concern. “You went after them by yourself?” Judy asked, her voice lower than before.

Wolfram glanced at her with a weary half smile. “So much for objectivity, eh, Judy?” he said softly.

There was another knock at the door, which caused Wolfram's ears to droop slightly. He took another sip of coffee as the door opened and Mundi popped his head in. In contrast to his usual jovial, easy going expression, Mundi's features were hardened, his jaw set and his shoulders stiff. He looked around and his eyes fell on Wolfram.

“Detective Wolfram,” he said, the same hard edge in his voice that was evident in his features, “Once you've cleaned yourself up, I need to see you in my office in thirty minutes.”

Wolfram's lips drew into a taut line, his ears flattening and his jaw clenching. He fixed his eyes on the city that shimmered beyond the window. “Yes sir, Lieutenant,” he said flatly.

Mundi turned his attention to Nick and Judy, his manner softening considerably, “Oh ahh, as for you two, the Chief understands it's your day off, but if you wouldn't mind being at the morning briefing, he'd appreciate it.”

Judy nodded, “Sure thing, sir.”

Mundi smiled at her and retreated, closing the door behind him. At that, Wolfram rose from his seat, polishing off his coffee in one long swig and tossing the empty cup in the trash. He slipped his paws into his pockets, his usual dispassionate expression returning as he paused to regard them for a moment. “Guess I'd better go make myself presentable,” he said at length, “Keep in touch. I'll keep you posted if anything new develops.” With that, he turned and departed.

Turning to Nick, Judy perked a brow, “Uh oh...I've never seen Mundi look like that before...I think Eli's in for it.”

Nick shrugged, opening his bag and pulling out his breakfast sandwich. He unwrapped it and took a bite, looking very pleased as he chewed and swallowed. “I don't know, but I guess Eli's got the right idea; we'd better make ourselves look presentable if we're going to show up at the briefing,” he said before taking another bite. “We look like we had a roll in the hay together,” he added with a bemused grin, his mouth full of insect sausage patty.

Judy blushed furiously in her ears, frowning and taking a bite of her veggie patty muffin. At length she glanced at him, grinning devilishly, “We'd look a lot messier than this if we did...we bunnies are very... _vigorous_.”

Nick's eyebrows shot up at that and Judy burst out in a laugh before returning to her breakfast sandwich.

Fifteen minutes or so later, Nick had made his way to the male locker room. He and Judy both had a spare set of civvies in their lockers, and so decided that a shower and a change was the best plan. Wolfram was still in one of the shower stalls when Nick arrived and took up the next one. Closing the door, he latched it and turned on the water, letting out a quiet sigh at how good it felt after the harrowing and uncomfortable night he'd just had.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said after a moment. Wolfram said nothing, so he added, “I don't know if it's some kind of communal shower _faux pas_ to talk to you, but I have to say I'm extremely curious about what happened.”

A quiet chuckle emanated from the next stall before Wolfram replied, “Okay, shoot.”

“Well, am I correct in understanding that you killed two Blood Fang members?”

“They jumped me,” came the laconic reply.

“What about the blood on your paw? Theirs?”

“No, that was the black bear,” Wolfram said.

“Black bear…?”

“I also punched out a black bear,” Wolfram said flatly.

“Geeze!” Nick said with a faint chuckle, “Where did you go last night? Sounds like a rough crowd...” He scrubbed shampoo into the fur of his head and neck as he spoke.

“The Rusty Herring. I had a hunch I might at least find one of the gang members there. I wanted to send a message,” Wolfram said, his voice low.

“I'd say you sent one all right!” Nick said, rinsing his head fur and scrubbing it with his fingers, “The Rusty Herring...phew, I wouldn't have set a paw in that place back when I was running cons. I have to say, Eli, as much as I admire the sheer badassery of it, it strikes me as...how shall I put this?...unbecoming to your intelligence.”

Wolfram laughed in reply, a hint of bitterness in the sound. He shut off the water, pulling the towel from the bar on the outside of the shower stall door. There was a long pause before he spoke again. “My partner was killed,” he said, his tone carefully measured to exclude emotion, “When I was a rookie.”

Nick's eyes went wide with shock. He shut off the water, keeping his paw on the faucet and turning his ear toward Wolfram.

“His name was Grizzwald...he was a brown bear. He was my field coach for my first year, and afterward we remained partners,” Wolfram said, “One night we got into a footpaw chase with an oryx...those buggers are fast...I outpaced Grizzwald and chased the perp into a forested park on the west side. Like an idiot, I got so focused on catching him that I didn't realize it was an ambush.”

Nick furrowed his brow, listening in stunned silence to the hauntingly familiar tale.

“I managed to catch the perp and take him down. I was handcuffing him when his buddy got the drop on me. He would have shot me if Grizzwald hadn't flanked around and tackled him. He was a big bastard – a bison. They wrestled over the gun and Grizzwald ended up taking a half dozen rounds point blank. Several went through his vest. I emptied my gun into the son of a bitch, but it was too little, too late. Grizzwald was dead before the ambulance arrived.”

“Eli...I'm so sorry...” Nick said, his voice faltering. A vision flashed in his mind's eye, a picture of Judy's lifeless form cradled in his arms, her blood soaking his uniform, his bitter tears falling on her face. The unmitigated horror of it made him shudder.

“There are different kinds of cops, Nick,” Wolfram said, wrapping himself in the towel and opening the stall. He paused in the doorway, “Some guys become cops for the power, some for the respect, some just for the pay cheque...but some animals...most of them, fortunately, become cops because it's in their blood. Because at the core of their being, they believe they can make a difference. I knew what kind of cop you were the moment I heard what happened at the lab. I knew you were the same kind of cop Grizzwald was.”

Nick grabbed his towel from the edge of the stall, wrapping it around himself, though he didn't open the door.

“Before Grizzwald's death, I was a keener, just like Judy,” Wolfram continued, “I thought I could make the world a better place...I just didn't know how ugly and broken it was yet. Afterward, I just wanted to punish the kind of scum that killed him. It became a one mammal crusade for me. I just about forgot what idealism was...until I met Judy.”

“Yeah,” Nick said quietly, “I know _exactly_ what you mean.”

“The fact that a degenerate sack of puke like Jack Hargrieve nearly succeeded in murdering two good cops like you and Judy, not once but _twice_...” Wolfram said, a faint growl seeping into his voice, “I lost my head. I wanted the son of a bitch to know that I would hunt him to the ends of the earth to bring him to justice.”

Nick opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him and he just stood silently on the cold, wet tiles, musing over the unexpected revelation.

“I gotta go,” Wolfram said quietly, “You and Judy take care of each other.” He departed, the stall door banging shut behind him as he strode off toward his locker.

“Always,” Nick called after him.

-~x0x~-

Fifteen minutes later, Wolfram stood outside Mundi's office door. He was dressed in a charcoal herringbone two button suit, crisp white shirt and navy blue tie with a red rosette pattern. In contrast to his usual habit, his collar was buttoned and his tie was knotted in a tight Windsor, perfectly centered and held in place with a silver tie clip that matched his cufflinks. He sighed sharply and knocked on the frosted glass panel.

“Come in,” Mundi said from within.

Wolfram stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. He strode to the center of the room and stood rigidly upright, his arms at his sides, almost as if he were standing at attention. His ears were turned back, but not folded down. He stared straight ahead at the wall. “You asked to see me, sir,” he said.

Mundi sat behind his desk, looking over their file. He had removed his overcoat and jacket and was dressed much as Wolfram had been when he arrived in the morning, in rolled up shirt sleeves, loose tie and shoulder holster. In contrast to Wolfram's .45 automatic, Mundi still carried a .38 service revolver with a rosewood grip, one of the last holdouts to carry a wheel gun in the entire department.

When Wolfram spoke, Mundi set the file aside and regarded his partner with a mildly pained expression. “Take a seat, Eli,” he said at length, gesturing to the couch that sat just to the left inside the door.

Wolfram sat down, his paws resting on his knees. He was holding his emotions entirely in check, letting nothing seep through his cold, dispassionate facade.

“You know, you're lucky,” Mundi said, his tone less edgy than it had been earlier, “Bogo was getting ready to tear a strip off you for going off half cocked by yourself last night. I ran interference for you; told him I'd deal with you myself.” As he spoke, Mundi wheeled his chair out from behind the desk and set it directly in front of Wolfram. When he eased himself into it, he leaned forward, resting one arm over his knee while he rubbed his forehead with the other paw. “What the hell were you thinking, Eli?” he said with an exasperated sigh.

Wolfram frowned slightly, “I was thinking I'd find a lead on the Blood Fangs at the Rusty Herring, and _I did._ Seth Grimm is with them, no question.”

“That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it, Eli,” Mundi persisted, “You went alone into that damn hornet's nest – hell, you kicked over the hornet's nest! - without even so much as calling your location to dispatch! I think you already know, these two, Hargrieve and his little flunkie Grimm, they aren't your typical hoods; you can't be taking chances like that.”

Wolfram's eyes locked on Mundi's, his ears flattening more, “You investigated the scene yourself, Lieutenant. I think you _know_ why I had to fly under the radar on this one.”

“You should have called _me_ , Eli!” Mundi snapped back, his normally unflappable exterior cracking.

“I didn't want to put you in danger, or put you in an untenable position; it was a risky, ethically dubious move,” Wolfram said, a pained expression crossing his features as he averted his gaze.

“That wasn't your call to make! I'm your superior, but I'm your _partner first_ , Eli,” Mundi said, lowering his tone slightly.

“That's exactly why I—” Wolfram started, then cut himself off. He leaned forward, clasping his paws and resting his forearms on his knees as he stared at the floor.

“Did you ever consider it from my perspective?” Mundi said, leaning a little closer, “How I would have felt if I had to wake up this morning and draw a chalk line around your corpse?”

“You could have to do that any given day, Mundi,” Wolfram said quietly, staring at the floor.

“It would be a hell of a lot easier to live with if I was backing you up when it happened,” Mundi said, his voice low, a growl seeping into his words, “Instead of always wondering if things might have been different if you'd _trusted me enough_ to let me help you.”

A long silence intervened. Finally, Wolfram's eyes slipped closed and he released a deep, weary sigh. “I'm sorry, Mundi...” he said, his voice hushed, “I should have called you. It won't happen again.”

A smile broke over Mundi's features and he reached out, patting Wolfram's shoulder. “'Bout time for a smoke, wouldn't you say?” he said, rising from his seat and heading for the door.

“You have no idea...” Wolfram said, a faint smile curling the corners of his muzzle, “Lead on, sir.”

-~x0x~-

Nick and Judy stood at the back of the bullpen, just off to the side of the door as the officers filed in. By virtue of the shift rotation they worked, some were familiar faces, while others were officers they rarely ever saw. Nearly all regarded them quizzically, wondering why they'd be at work on their day off. The events of the preceding night hadn't hit the media by the time of the morning news, so none were aware of their brush with death.

Nick wore a red floral print shirt with white flowers, a striped tie with alternating shades of sky and navy blue, and a pair of sage chinos. He was leaning against the back wall absently surfing the net on his phone, one paw shoved in his pocket.

Judy had changed into a sage green military style shirt with cropped sleeves, patch pockets, epaulets, and an elegant curve cut into the tails, which she left un-tucked from her khaki capris. Her shirt was left open and she wore a simple baby blue v-neck tee shirt underneath. She stood leaning against the wall beside Nick, staring at the empty podium at the front of the room, nibbling her thumb claw as she brooded over the reason why Bogo wanted them to attend.

“What's eating you, Carrots?” Nick asked without looking away from his screen.

She glanced at him with a mildly annoyed look. “Your fashion sense. Have you been checked for colour blindness?” she said. It irritated her that he could adopt such a totally cavalier, oblivious attitude and yet still nothing escaped his notice.

“Har har,” he said, glancing at her with a wry smirk, “Now, the real issue?”

She huffed at him, tucking her paws behind her back and glancing away from his smug, roguish, and utterly handsome face. “I'm worried that maybe we were too obvious at the pub last night,” she said, her voice hushed, “And what with us sleeping at the station together...what if Bogo knows about us?”

“What if he does?” Nick asked, his smile curling a little more as he regarded her sidelong with half lidded eyes, “What's he going to do, take our birthdays away?”

“How about _fire you_ for breaching policy?” she hissed, glancing around to make sure they weren't overheard, “You're still on probation!”

A quiet chuckle escaped Nick as he turned his gaze back to his phone. “I'm a _bona fide_ hero, remember? You can't award a guy the Golden Wings of Valour and then fire him for dating the bunny whose life he saved – who also happens to be a _bona fide_ hero, by the way – very poor optics. Doesn't play in the media. Worst he'd do is suspend me for a while, maybe.”

“You don't need that on your record your first year, Nick.”

“You're worth it,” he said, his smile returning as he cast another brief glance at her.

She was frowning back at him, “What about me? I don't need to get suspended either, Nick!”

His face fell slightly and he tucked his phone away into his pocket, leaving his paw there as he leaned his head against he wall. “Aren't I worth it…?” he asked, some of the joviality draining from his tone.

She frowned more deeply, crossing her arms and turning back to the front of the room. “ _Yes_ ,” she said after a brief pause. “But I'd still rather not go there,” she added.

“Aw relax, Carrots,” he said, letting his eyes slip closed, his tail swishing back and forth against the wall, “You worry too much.”

A few seconds of silence intervened before the side door opened and Bogo strode into the room. He took the podium and shuffled through his papers briefly, glancing up and locking eyes with Judy for a moment. She smiled awkwardly and waggled her fingers in a wave, which elicited an eye roll from Bogo. He set aside his papers and cleared his throat, “All right, quiet down, take your seats.”

All the officers sat and silence came over the room. After a brief glance around, Bogo addressed them, “Before I hand out the day's assignments, there's something I need to take care of. Some of you may have noted Officers Hopps and Wilde are with us today, which would ordinarily be their first day off. What you may _not_ know is that they narrowly survived an attempt on their lives last night.”

A low rumble of concern and surprise rippled through the room. Nick opened his mouth, no doubt to call out some witty quip, but Judy's sharp elbow strike to his ribcage silenced him.

“ _Not a word from you!_ ” she whispered sharply, fixing him with a deadly amethyst glare.

He groaned apologetically in response, clutching his ribs and wincing in pain.

“The upshot of this,” Bogo continued, “Is that Officer Hopps's apartment is no longer safe, at least until the perpetrator is captured. I'm hoping that one of you is willing and able to offer her a place to stay for a while.”

Judy's jaw dropped and her eyes went wide. “Oh, no, sir I couldn't—” she blurted out.

“I'll do it!”

Nick had been about to speak again, a devilish grin on his muzzle when the sudden interjection from the front row stopped him cold. He watched with his mouth hanging slightly open as Fangmeyer stood up.

An uncharacteristically warm smile spread over Bogo's muzzle and he nodded to her, “Very good, thank you, Officer Fangmeyer.”

Judy dashed to the front, moving to the table where Fangmeyer sat. “Oh, are you sure, Lucy? I don't want to burden anyone...really, you don't have to do this!”

Fangmeyer chuckled, regarding Judy with a bemused smile, “Don't sweat it, Judy! I've got a guest bedroom, so it's really no trouble. It's the least I can do for a fellow officer,” she said, flashing a toothy grin.

Judy smiled warmly, clasping her paws in front of her, “Wow...thanks so much, Lucy; it's really so kind of you.”

Bogo cleared his throat, “All right, all right, move along so we can get back to work, Hopps. You and Fangmeyer can meet in the foyer after the shift to work out the details.”

“Okay, sir,” Judy said, waving and grinning at Fangmeyer before strolling back to Nick. She had noticed the deflated look on his face when Fangmeyer volunteered, so she shot him a wry smirk as she approached, “What's the matter, Nick? Lucy stole your thunder? You know I wouldn't have agreed to move in with you anyway...”

He smirked back at her, crossing his arms, “I just wanted to see you blush again. It's so cu—”

“Ah, _ah!_ ” she said, waggling a warning finger at him, “Do _not_ use the C-word with me, mister.”

Nick frowned in response, “You make it sound like a vulgar slur.”

“It's demeaning,” she said, “So, what're your plans for today, Officer Wilde?”

“Weeelllll...” he said, pausing briefly to make sure no other officers were within earshot, “I thought maybe if you're not busy, you'd like to go on a date with me.”

Her face lit up with a broad smile and she moved to his side, leaning against the wall in an attempt to appear nonchalant while keeping their conversation private. “Sounds good,” she said with conspiratorial glance, “Where do you want to go?”

“Right here,” he said, flashing a sly grin and nodding to the door. Without waiting for her answer, he slipped out the door and into the hall.

She dashed after him, looking utterly flustered. “Wh..what are you talking about? Here?!” she whispered sharply.

“Trust me, Carrots,” he said, slipping his paws into his pockets as he strolled along, “It'll be like going undercover...hiding in plain sight. It'll be fun, I promise.”

She sighed and regarded him with a bemused smirk, “All right, slick Nick, lead the way.”

He led her downstairs to the weapons lockup, hailing the moose working the counter with a friendly wave. “Hey Andy! Hoping you can help us out. We need some concealment holsters, targets and practice ammo,” Nick said with a smile.

“Sure, Nick!” Andy said, turning to head to the storage area to grab the requested items. He stopped short, glancing at them, “Isn't it your day off, though?”

Nick shrugged, “We had to come into the office because of a case, so we figured we might as well get some range time in.”

Andy nodded with a look of understanding and headed into the back room out of sight. Within a few minutes, he returned pushing a cart with all the requested items on it, separated into two large paper bags. He set them on the counter, then sat down at his workstation beside the window, tapping a few keys. “You guys been issued concealment gear yet?” he asked, glancing at them over the counter edge.

Nick shook his head, “Not me. You, Officer Hopps?”

“Nope, not me,” Judy said.

“All right, no problem, I'll enter them on your record so you don't have to bother bringing them back. You might need 'em sometime if you end up doing a plainclothes assignment – I put some proper gun belts in there too, since your typical belts are too flimsy for holsters. Anything else?”

“That ought to do it,” Nick said, reaching up to take his bag as Andy handed them over the counter.

“See ya!” Andy said with a friendly wave, “Oh, hey Nick, we're doing poker night again on Friday, you in?”

“I don't think I can make it; I've got a lot going on. I'll take a rain cheque.”

“Sure, next time!” Andy said before turning back to his computer.

Judy smiled at Nick as they headed toward the elevators, “You really do know everyone. It's kinda sweet how you make friends so easily.”

“Always befriend the equipment guy, Carrots,” he replied with a grin, “It ensures you have what you need when you need it.”

“So, what, you're just using Andy because he can get you cool kit?” she said, giving him a gentle jab in the ribs.

“Nooooo,” Nick said, flashing a wry smirk, “I enjoy hanging out and playing cards with Andy, _and_ he can also get me cool kit.”

Judy just rolled her eyes at that.

Within ten minutes, they had retrieved their pistols from the gun lockup, come back downstairs to the range, donned the concealment holsters and were standing in adjacent firing lanes with ear defenders and eye protection on.

The range consisted of a large square room constructed of smooth concrete, its low ceiling lined with angled ballistic panels. At the back of the range was a slanted bullet trap with water cascading down it to trap fragments and lead dust. Behind the firing line where they stood, the entire wall was a huge bank of fans designed to blow all the gas and contaminants downrange. The range was divided into fifteen individual lanes behind the firing line, each separated from the next by a narrow panel, but in front of the firing line, the range was open, permitting different scenarios with multiple targets if desired. The targets ran on motorized carriers attached to rails that ran the full length of the range from the line to the trap; they set them at ten meters.

“So, what's the drill then, Nick?” Judy asked, topping off a magazine and slipping it into the mag pouch on her belt before picking up the next one.

Nick rammed a magazine into his pistol and racked the slide. Pulling his shirt up, he slipped the gun into his holster and let the shirt back down to cover it. “I thought we should make things interesting, have a bit of a competition. Shall we start with quick draw? Starting holstered, fire a round as fast as possible. Whoever shoots first wins – but you have to hit the center of mass ring or it doesn't count.”

Judy grinned, loading and readying her pistol before holstering it. “Quick draw against a bunny? You sure you want to do that, Nick? We're awfully fast,” she said.

“That remains to be seen,” Nick retorted, challenging her with a self assured smirk, “Shooter ready?” He pressed a button on the shot timer laid on the narrow table built into the panel beside him.

“Ready,” Judy said, spreading her footpaws slightly and holding her paws just above waist height in front of her.

Nick pressed the start button and assumed a similar stance. There was a pause of several seconds followed by a loud beep. In a flurry of motion, they both drew and fired; Nick lagged a split second behind her.

“Damn!” he said, “Okay, two out of three.”

Judy chuckled, holstering her gun as Nick reset the timer.

Another beep, another flash of movement, and once again, Judy beat him out by a split second.

“All right, new contest!” he said, furrowing his brow at her, “Marksmanship shooting, twenty five meters, five rounds, no barricades.”

“You're on,” Judy said, forgetting all the stress of the previous night and beginning to enjoy herself.

This time, Nick shot a tight group centered on the target while Judy's was spread more with some outlying fliers, though all shots were still on target. She pouted playfully at him after they holstered, giving him a gentle punch in the arm, “No fair, you shot a perfect score on your qualification at the academy.”

“Best two out of three?” he said with a chuckle.

They shot again, but when the targets came back, Nick's group was tighter. He moved to her lane, studying her target for a moment. “Let's have you try it again and maybe I can give you a few pointers,” he said, swapping out the target for a fresh one. He punched in the code to send the target back to twenty five meters, then knelt down behind her.

“Oh, so the probie becomes the coach, is that it?” she said with a teasing smile.

“Turnabout is fair play, Fluff. Now, widen your stance a bit,” he said, wrapping his paws around her waist. She spread her footpaws. “Okay, good, now square your hips...” he said, deftly guiding her with gentle motions of his paws, squaring her off to the target. “And now your shoulders,” he said, moving his paws up, making fine adjustments until she was perfectly squared off.

“Deep breaths,” he said, his voice lowering slightly as he drew a bit closer, “Now, loosen your grip with your dominant paw, and tighten it up a bit with the support paw...” As he spoke, he slid his paws along her arms, wrapping them around hers until her back was almost pressed against his chest. He held his paws over hers for a moment, until he could feel the correct tension on the pistol grip. “Okay good, now focus on the front sight, pull the trigger sixty percent of the way back...”

She sharpened her focus on the front sight, squeezing the trigger as he instructed. He withdrew his paws, but kept his muzzle close to the side of her head, making sure she could hear him through her ear defenders.

“Now, eighty, ninety...”

The pistol fired, bucking in her grip; the bullet punched a hole dead center of the target. A grin spread along Nick's muzzle.

“How was that?” she asked, turning her head slightly only to suddenly realize how very close he was. She froze, her lips hovering mere inches from his for the second time that day.

“Beautiful,” he said softly, “Keep going, five rounds.”

She focused on the front sight again, placing it in the center of the target. She squeezed off another round, the shot punching a hole that almost touched the first. Another shot struck just below that, forming a neat little triangle. The fourth shot landed in the middle of the first three.

It was then that Nick brought his nose up behind her neck, positioning his lips so that his words fluttered through the soft fur just behind the base of her ear as he spoke. “You know, Carrots, I have a little confession to make...” he said, his voice a deep, breathy whisper.

Her concentration faltered and she slackened her trigger squeeze, starting again.

“I had an ulterior motive in asking you down here. The way you kissed me last night...it was incredibly hot; I've been thinking about it all day...” he continued, “I couldn't return the favour yet, so at least I wanted to be close to you like this.”

Her gun fired and the bullet ricocheted off the floor, bouncing up into the target toward the bottom.

She holstered her gun, pulling off her ear defenders as she turned and stared him in the eye. “Okay, now you're just messing with me to throw my aim off...that's cheating!” she grumbled, though a hint of playfulness remained in her voice.

A pained expression flashed across his features before vanishing again as he rose to a stand, dropping his ear defenders down to hang around his neck. He thrust his paws into his pockets and regarded her with a slight tilt of his head. “Trust me, I'm very serious,” he said, “Although I did have _another_ ulterior motive...”

She crossed her arms and regarded him with a perk of her brow. “Which is…?” she said, her tone mellowing considerably as she tried to force herself to stop thinking about their kiss and how hot it was and how badly he wanted to 'return the favour'.

He drew a deep breath, studying her with his emerald gaze for a moment before he spoke. “I wanted to be sure your concealed pistol skills were up to snuff, because I need to ask you a favour,” he said, his voice lower than before, “I've got some stuff I need to deal with for the next couple days, so I probably won't see you much. I need you to promise me you won't go anywhere without your gun from now on.”

She furrowed her brow at him, pursing her lips as she mulled over his request. At length a smile spread across her muzzle as she read between the lines. She nodded, “Okay, Nick. But what about you?”

“Same goes for me, Carrots,” he said, matching her smile, “Now, shall we polish off the rest of these rounds?”

“Okay, but you don't stand a chance now,” she said, “I got coaching from an expert marksmammal.”

He chuckled softly, “Uh oh, and here I was thinking I should place a wager on this.”

“What kind of wager?” she asked, donning her ear defenders again and taking her place in her lane.

“Winner gets a kiss from the loser,” he said, grinning.

“Sounds like a win-win situation to me,” she said.


	12. Chapter 12

Judy and Fangmeyer met at Clawhauser's desk after the shift to make arrangements. Since Judy had no extra clothes or toiletries, and anything Fangmeyer could wear would be more useful as a tent than clothing to her, they drove together to the mall and spent the rest of the afternoon shopping.

The sun was setting by the time they arrived outside Fangmeyer's apartment building, a modern high rise apartment tower in central Savannah Square. Her place was on the fourth floor on the west side of the building. They arrived at the door laden with shopping bags and in high spirits. Fangmeyer fished her keys from her handbag, unlocking the door and pushing it open. “Welcome home,” Fangmeyer said with a grin, stepping aside to let Judy enter first, “ _Mi casa es su casa_ , Jude!”

Judy stepped through the door into the light, airy interior. The apartment was spacious and modern, with white walls, vaulted ceilings and plush carpeting. To the left of the entry was a large closet, to the right a spacious kitchen with stainless steel appliances. There was a hallway on the left just beyond the closet which led to two bedrooms and the bathroom, while straight ahead the entrance hall opened into a large living room with a gas fireplace, a huge picture window and a sliding door with a balcony just off to the left.

Fangmeyer stepped in behind Judy, shutting the door and dropping her bags just inside the closet. “Let me show you your room!” she said, leading the way down the hall. She stopped at the first door and pushed it open. It led to a spacious bedroom with a large west-facing window. There was a big bed with silk sheets and a fluffy comforter, a dresser and a low cabinet with a flatscreen tv. On the wall by the window was a bookshelf lined with various novels, reference books and a few nick-nacks for decoration. A plush velvet armchair with a small pedestal table sat on the opposite side of the window from the shelf.

Judy dropped her bags by the dresser, bringing her paws to her mouth in awe. “Oh wow, Lucy!” she said with a gasp, “This is just gorgeous...thank you so much.”

“My pleasure, Jude,” Fangmeyer said with a broad grin, “Now, no offense, but I have virtually nothing you'd find edible and pretty much zero interest in cooking tonight. Whadda ya say we order stir fry from this great noodle place nearby, and we'll spend the night in watching chick flicks and painting our claws?”

Judy let out a bubbling giggle, nodding her assent. “Sounds great!” she said.

Within half an hour or so, two orders of fried noodles, one seafood, one vegetarian, had arrived at their door. They sat side by side on Fangmeyer's sofa, clad in bathrobes, with their footpaws resting on the edge of the large coffee table, their freshly painted toeclaws drying in the warmth of the gas fireplace. They had put on Wedding Dashers starring Owen Wolfson and Vince Fawn and were hungrily slurping their noodles from cardboard cartons as they watched.

For Judy, the choice of film had jolted her back from the pleasant mood she had been in all day, because it very abruptly brought to mind the realization that Nick was coming to pick her up for their date in three days time. Living in such close quarters, it was pretty much a foregone conclusion that Fangmeyer would find out about it. She played out various scenarios in her mind to try to hide it, but they all involved such convoluted deceptions that she was sure they would blow up in her face.

Judy finished her noodles and set the carton on the table. She began nibbling on her thumbclaw, wondering what to do.

Fangmeyer suddenly burst out in raucous laughter at the on-screen antics, tapping Judy with the back of her paw. “Can you believe these clowns?” she said, shaking her head. When Judy didn't respond, she looked over with a frown, noticing Judy's pensive, anxious demeanor, “Hey, everything okay, Jude?”

Judy sighed deeply, dropping her paws between her knees and staring at her toes for a few seconds. She decided that trusting a friend was probably the best bet, so she turned to Fangmeyer with a pleading look. “Lucy, can I trust you to keep a secret?” she asked.

Fangmeyer furrowed her brow, setting aside her noodle carton and shifting herself so that she was facing Judy, one leg draped across the couch in front of her. “Of course, Jude! What's the matter?” she asked, resting her paws over her ankle.

“Well...um...it's about me and Nick...” she said, turning to face Lucy, sitting cross legged on the sofa cushion.

“You two are dating, huh?” Lucy said with a knowing nod of her head.

Judy's eyes went wide as saucers, her ears dropping instantly behind her back, “ _Y...you knew?!_ How did you know!?” she stammered.

Fangmeyer responded with a chuckle and a knowing smirk, “Sweetie, it's kind of obvious, at least to the females in the office. The way you two look at each other, the way you talk to each other, the way you're always sitting all snuggled up in that chair at morning briefing...”

Judy buried her face in her palms, dragging them down her cheeks and rolling her eyes up to the ceiling, “Oh great, so _everyone knows_ and Nick's going to get fired for fraternizing with his coach...”

“Oh, I wouldn't be too worried, sweetie,” Fangmeyer said, “I said it was obvious to the _females_. The males are probably pretty oblivious to it, especially Bogo. That's how they are about stuff like that.”

“Do you think it's wrong?” Judy asked, looking back to Fangmeyer with a worried frown, “Am I some kind of freak for liking a fox?”

“Do _you_ think it's wrong?” Fangmeyer asked, perking a brow, “You strike me as a mammal with a very strong sense of right and wrong, Jude.”

Judy sighed, looking down at her paws, “I don't know...according to society, it's some kind of crime against nature.”

“Funny,” Fangmeyer said with a wry smirk, “I don't remember 'crimes against nature' being part of my academy training. What section of the criminal code is that in?”

Judy chuckled softly at that, a wistful smile crossing her muzzle.

“Since you're bearing your soul here, it would be rude of me not to share a secret of mine as well,” Fangmeyer said with a wry grin, “Wana know something I've never told anyone else?”

Judy turned back to the tigress, her ears perked, “Sure, Lucy. I promise it stays with me.”

Fangmeyer grinned, lowering her body until she was propped on her elbows on the couch, bringing her face to Judy's level. She cupped her paw to her muzzle and whispered, “I have a huge crush on Bogo.”

Judy's jaw dropped; she planted her paws on the couch, fully turning toward Fangmeyer, “ _No!..._ You're kidding! _Bogo!?_ ”

Fangmeyer nodded with a sheepish grin and a giggle, “Yep. For years. He's the reason I became a cop.”

A look of bewilderment washed over Judy's face. She almost bounced in her seat, “Well, come on, tell me! I _gotta_ hear this...”

“Well, when I was a teenager, I was kind of a spoiled brat,” Fangmeyer began, rolling herself onto her back and propping her footpaws on the coffee table. She slouched with her ankles crossed over each other and her paws on her stomach as she spoke, “ I got mixed up with the wrong crowd. Parties, booze, drugs. When I was eighteen, we had this huge house party that got busted up by the cops. I had been doing wildwood weed, but I wasn't super high, and I managed to pawn off my stash on a buddy of mine and not get caught. When all was said and done, the cops couldn't prove I had actually broken the law, but Bogo – he was a Sergeant then – _he knew_. He could read it in my eyes.”

Judy sat transfixed, nodding at intervals, her eyes wide as she listened.

“He sat me down when everyone else was gone, and he gave me this talk,” Fangmeyer continued, her eyes taking on a wistful caste as she seemed to be picturing the event in her mind, “He told me he knew I was doing drugs and drinking under age, and that path would lead nowhere. He said I 'd never be where he was in life if I didn't smarten up and make better choices. He told me he could tell I was a smart kid, that I was meant to be something more than a party girl. I was just totally in awe of him; he was absolutely gorgeous in his uniform, and that _accent…_!” A low, rumbling purr escaped the tigress as her lips curled into a deeply pleased smile.

“Oh geeze, Lucy, you're worse than me!” Judy said in a laugh.

“I realized two things that day,” Fangmeyer said, glancing at Judy, “One, that I totally had the hots for a cape buffalo cop, but two, that Bogo became a cop because he _cared._ He comes across as this belligerent asshole – he did then, too – but behind all that hard exterior, he has a huge heart that cares deeply about his fellow animals. It made me want to be a cop too.”

“Wow...” Judy breathed, furrowing her brow as she tried to process it all, “So...did you ever pursue it?”

Fangmeyer shook her head, “I became a cop nine years later. By that time, Bogo had climbed the ladder a long ways...I think he was a captain by then...and it would have just caused way too much trouble for him. Plus, I had no reason to think he had any attraction to me. He's a pretty by-the-book kind of guy, you may have noticed.”

“He is that,” Judy said with a smirk, “But what about now? He seems to have a different way of talking to you than the other cops, now that I think about it.”

“When I first joined, whether consciously or not, I tried to get close to him. I worked under him a few times, and we got to be on friendly terms,” Fangmeyer said, “Not, like, going out for coffee or anything, just that we seemed to get along well at work. It would still be just as messy to try and start a relationship with him now...anyway, it's not like I'm head over heels in love or anything, it's just a crush.”

“Okay, but what if he was just a patrol officer too...would you ask him out?”

Fangmeyer grinned, showing rows of sharp teeth, “In a heartbeat.”

“ _Wow..._ ” Judy whispered, sitting for a moment in silent contemplation of all that Fangmeyer had said. After a few moments, she reached out and touched Fangmeyer's paw. “Thank you so much for telling me all this, Lucy...” she said, her voice hushed, “I thought I was the only animal in the world feeling this way.”

“Probably more of us out there than we think, Jude,” Fangmeyer said with a shrug, absently tapping her footpaws together, “It's not like it's the stone age...love is a lot more complicated than just simple biology. I mean, just look at us! A bunny and a tiger watching chick flicks, eating take out noodles, and gossiping about guys...maybe words like 'predator' and 'prey' really don't mean anything anymore...you know? If we can be friends, why the heck can't a bunny date a fox?”

Judy smiled and threw her arms around Fangmeyer's neck in a warm hug, “Thanks, Lucy.”

“Don't mention it,” Fangmeyer said, “Now let's finish our movie.”

-~x0x~-

Three days later, Judy was practically buzzing as she and Fangmeyer arrived at the apartment after work. Nick was coming in an hour's time to pick her up for their date at the Igloo Lounge. She disappeared into her room and didn't emerge for three quarters of an hour, fussing over every detail of her appearance and the brand new outfit she and Fangmeyer had carefully picked out while shopping the day before. She emerged at quarter to five, dressed, groomed and ready.

Shortly thereafter, a text came through on Judy's phone. It was from Nick and it read: Look out the window.

She dashed to the sliding door leading to the balcony, tugging it open and darting to the railing. Looking down into the street below, she saw Nick standing in front of a black Cattleac stretch limo, his paws buried in his pockets and a pleased smile on his lips. She could just see Finnick's tiny arm slung out the open window along with the peak of his chauffeur's hat.

Nick wore a smart looking navy blue two piece suit, a pale gray shirt with a button down collar, and a red tie with broad blue diagonal stripes. He had a red and blue pocket square tucked into his breast pocket with the tips sticking out. He looked fantastic; Judy found herself gawking for a long while, wondering where in the world 'Tropical Shirt Nick' with his mismatched ties learned to pull off a suit like that. _Perhaps tips from Eli_ , she thought.

"I'll be right down!" she called to him with an excited wave.

Judy dashed through the apartment, snatching her purse from the coffee table as she darted past. "See ya, Lucy!" she said with a grin, "Thanks for everything!"

"Dance him off his paws, hot stuff!" Lucy called after her, Judy's obvious excitement eliciting a chuckle from the tigress, "I want lots of juicy details when you get back!"

Judy was at the front entrance within two minutes. She paused before exiting to look over her reflection in the glass. Her dress was a form fitting silk affair in midnight blue picked out with red embroidery. It closed at the neck with an elegant mandarin collar whose piped leading edge trailed over her chest and ran down the right side of her front all the way to the end of the mid length hem of the dress. She had splurged on a pair of red Preyda ankle strap kitten heels; she decided the lower height was a good idea since she could count on one paw the number of times she'd worn heels before in her life...it was one: at the shoe store. Fortunately, Lucy had given her some pointers and she'd practiced all that afternoon to the point she was at least confident she could get through the night without injuring herself.

Fangmeyer had helped her paint her claws a deep crimson with lipstick to match, then added just a dash of eyeshadow. Judy decided she looked pretty good, all things considered, and reached for the door handle.

Drawing a deep breath, she stood tall and put on a brave smile. She pushed open the door and boldly marched down the steps in front of the building, striding toward Nick and the waiting limo. Because of the heels, there was more sway in her hips than usual; she smiled to herself as she saw Nick take notice. He greeted her with a warm, appreciative smile and an open, extended paw.

When she placed her paw in his, he bowed and planted a kiss on her knuckles much as he had with Katherine in the Nocturnal District, only this time she noticed his kiss bore a tenderness, a reverence that was absent before.

He raised his eyes to meet hers, not yet releasing her paw. “You look wonderful,” he said softly, then added with a mischievous grin, “And here I was worried Fangmeyer might be a bad influence on you.”

“You're looking pretty fine yourself there, Slick Nick!” she said, feeling a hotness in her cheeks and ears, “You've clearly been holding out on me.”

He chuckled softly, giving a shrug, “If I wore one of my usual shirts to the Igloo Chill Lounge, I'd be out on my ear and it would be the very last time they let me in there.”

“Hey!” Finnick's gruff bass tones interjected suddenly, “If you two could take the flirting into the vehicle, we can get on our way.” He jumped out of the driver's seat and opened the rear door, bowing slightly to Judy, “Ma'am.”

Judy giggled, flashing a smile to Nick before climbing inside. Nick followed her, sitting beside her and lounging deeply into the plush velvet upholstery. He slung his ankle up over his left knee and his arm around Judy's shoulders. Finnick shut the door and within a few moments, the engine started up and they pulled away, rolling through the streets at a leisurely pace.

Judy was practically vibrating in her seat, her paws clasped in front of her to keep her from clapping in excitement. “This is so _awesome_!” she said, beaming up at him, “ _The_ _Igloo_...I never thought I'd even _see_ the inside of that place, let alone spend an evening there! They say that even Gazelle goes there sometimes... _OMIGOSH NICK!...What if she's there!?_ ”

Nick chuckled in reply. “Pretty sure she's not in town right now,” he said, “But hey, anything's possible, right Carrots?”

Within about twenty minutes, the limo pulled up in front of the Igloo Lounge and parked. They heard the front door open, then a few seconds later, the back door opened and Finnick jumped inside. He shut the door and moved over to the bar built into the interior wall. His back turned to them, he pulled out a bottle and two glasses from one of the cabinets. He popped the cork, pouring the contents into the glasses. When he turned back around, he held a flute of champagne in each paw. He gave one to each of them. “A little something to start your evening off right,” he said with a faint smile.

“Aww, Fin...that's really nice of you,” Nick said, raising his glass.

“Yeah, well,” Finnick said, averting his gaze, “Don't make a big deal of it...just enjoy yourselves, all right?”

They clinked their glasses together, downing a long swig of the effervescent wine. Finnick abruptly stepped out the door, closing it behind him and leaving them alone again.

Nick gently swirled the liquid in his slender glass, regarding Judy with a smirk. “So,” he said, nodding toward her brand new shoes, “You sure you can dance in those?” His gaze lingered admiringly on the straps framing her delicate footpaws, wandering up her bare calf for a moment before returning to meet her eyes.

She perked her brow at him and tipped her glass toward his bare footpaws, “You sure you can dance in _those?_ ”

“I think I'll manage,” he said wryly, “We foxes are light on our paws, you know.”

She snorted softly at him, taking another sip. “Well,” she said, watching bubbles dance in her glass, “I figure you can always just lift me off the floor if I'm having trouble.”

“Hmmm now that has intriguing possibilities...” he said, polishing off his champagne and flashing a devilish grin.

She responded with a gentle punch to his arm as she was busy polishing off her own glass at that moment. She set it down on the bar beside his and looked up expectantly at him. He responded by taking her paw and opening the door, leading her out into the snowy Tundratown evening.

They strode paw in paw to the front of a 1920's era hotel, its towering face ornately decorated with art deco bass relief. Most of the first floor was taken up by the Igloo Chill Lounge, the remainder being the hotel lobby. They caught glimpses of the decadent, gilded interior through the frost rimed windows as they approached, and could hear the muffled sound of the sultry jazz wafting from within.

Nick led her past a long line of mammals waiting under the electric blue neon sign to be let in the front door, to a smaller, nondescript steel door with heavy rivets and a sliding view slot that was located further down the block. Judy looked up at him in confusion, but he merely flashed his, 'Trust me, Carrots' grin and rapped sharply three times on the door.

After a brief pause, the slot snapped open and a pair of steely blue eyes darted around before falling on Nick. “The sun is shining,” said the voice from within.

“But the ice is slippery,” Nick replied without missing a beat.

“Ah, you're expected, Mister Wilde, please come in,” the voice said. The door reverberated with the sound of heavy bolts being shot back and opened with a metallic shudder, revealing a thirty-something male lynx dressed in the black tailcoat and black tie of a formal waiter. He bowed and ushered them in with a wave of his paw. Nick gently placed his paw on the small of Judy's back and guided her through the door.

They moved through a dimly lit passage lined in dark oak paneling, each step further enveloping them in a sultry, silken blanket of slow jazz melody. The deep, throaty notes of the stand up bass intermingled with the mournful sound of violin, the clear, mellow tones of the grand piano and the edgy brass of the saxophone, drawing them deeper until they emerged into a large, ornate lounge.

The gilded accents, including crown moldings, decorative pillars and geometric pendant lamps, were exquisitely wrought in the height of art deco style. The outer walls were lined with deep, shadowy booths upholstered in plush midnight blue velvet and framed with dark gold curtains. White marble topped tables with wrought iron clawed feet contrasted brilliantly against the subdued backdrop. Most of the expanse of floor in the middle was taken up with round tables and chairs, a black candle lantern glowing in the center of each one.

Off to the side of the main entrance stood a large stage with a seven piece jazz band. Leading the band was a statuesque snowshoe hare with long, curvaceous legs and shortish ears. She wore a black sequined dress and black pumps that contrasted against her stark, silky white fur. Her paws were wrapped around the microphone as she belted out a sultry jazz ballad. Spread out in front of the stage was a wide dance floor, its surface finished in rich, dark oak in a herringbone pattern. Several couples swayed with the flow of the music.

On the wall opposite the door they entered through stood a towering bar, its counter lit by the dim glow of opaque cream pendant lamps, its shelves accented in angular gilt art deco accents and lined with liquor bottles of every size and description. Every inch of the place dripped with the stylish decadence that was the hallmark of the jazz age.

The waiter led them to a booth near the back, kitty-corner from the grandiose bar. “Your booth, sir,” he said with a polite bow, “Your server will be along shortly.”

Nick gestured to one side of the plush bench seat, which Judy clambered up onto, before taking his own seat opposite her. Within moments, a young sable antelope doe, her deep black fur contrasting against a dark crimson dress, strolled up to their table. “Good evening and welcome to the Igloo” she said, flashing a subdued smile, “May I offer you something to drink?”

“I'd love a rye and ginger, thanks,” Nick said, then turned his gaze to Judy, “How about you, Carrots?”

“Hmmm...” she said, regarding Nick with a bemused expression, “I'll have a gin and tonic with a lemon twist, please.”

“Excellent,” said the doe, “I'll be back in a moment with your drinks.”

Nick perked a brow at Judy, “Feeling adventurous tonight, Carrots? You don't typically hit the hard bar.”

“Well, I've got to keep up with you, don't I?” she said, grinning across the table at him.

“Ha! That's a scary thought!” he said, grinning back, “Well, if you're feeling bold, why don't you try a little predator food and share an appy with me?”

Her face faltered, her brows dropping slightly, “What did you have in mind?”

“Escargot,” he said, “It's a delicacy.”

“What is it?” she asked, her nose twitching faintly in the mellow light of the hanging lamp above the table.

“Ah, ah! That would be telling,” he said, “You have to eat some first. Unless of course you're afraid...”

His challenge had the desired effect; her face took on a look of grim determination. “Bring it on,” she said.

A moment later, the server returned with their drinks, setting them down on the table. “What can I get you to start with this evening?” she asked, glancing between them.

“We'll have an order of escargot, please,” Nick said with a bemused smile, “And two forks, if you would.”

“Very good, sir!” she said, “I'm told it's superb.”

“You've never tried it?” Judy said, looking up at the tall, slender sable.

The server let out a giggle, shaking her head, “Oh goodness, no! I wouldn't touch it.” With that, she bowed politely and departed to deliver the order to the back. Judy looked at Nick with growing concern on her features.

Nick laughed in response, raising his glass. “Here's to you, and here's to me—” he began.

“Oh, come on, Nick,” she interjected with a smirk as she raised her glass, “Don't start that again."

“Okay, okay,” he said with a low, throaty chuckle and a wry smile, “Then how's this? Here's to _really_ spending time together and finding out where that might lead.”

“That I will drink to, sir,” she said with a grin. They clinked their glasses together and each took a stiff swig before setting their glasses back down.

They had just polished off their drinks as the escargot arrived, and so ordered two more before the waitress departed. Its appearance gave little clue as to what it was; it was served in a circular crockery dish with six semi-spherical divots in it, each one filled with a morsel of...something...doused in spiced butter sauce. Judy forked one and held it up, deciding not to look too hard before popping it in her mouth.

A pleased smile spread over her lips as the delicious flavour melted over her tongue. It had a rich, savoury taste and a pleasant, tender texture with just a slight resistance to the tooth. She swallowed, grinning at Nick across the table, “Tasty! What is it?”

“Snails,” he said with a smug grin, waiting for the reaction.

Her ears drooped for a moment and a look of consternation crossed her face. She was feeling around her teeth with her tongue, as if pondering how she should take this news. Finally she shrugged and resumed grinning at him, her ears perking back up. “Meh, you guys eat nastier things every day...these are really good!” she said, cheerfully popping another into her mouth.

“I know they are, so don't take 'em all,” he said, grinning back at her and having one himself.

Nick loosened his tie, taking another bite of escargot as their drinks arrived. He polished off half of his glass in one swig, setting it down and unfastening his collar button. “Is it kinda hot in here, Carrots?” he asked absently, his gaze wandering around the room.

She furrowed her brow at him in confusion, “Nick, we're in Tundratown, it's frigid in here...”

He polished off the rest of his rye and ginger, then grabbed her paw with a broad, toothy grin on his muzzle, “Let's dance, gorgeous! I just need to _move_...”

She didn't have time to answer as he tugged her out of the booth and onto the dance floor. The band was playing a raucous swing number; he slid his arm around her middle and danced her wildly across the floor. She giggled as he bounced and spun, though his movements seemed a little erratic; something was different from the night they danced at McGuffin's.

“You're _amazing_ , Carrots,” he said breathlessly, holding her tight as he whirled with her, “You're like this _whole experience_...it's incredible...”

“Nick...what are you…?” she said, furrowing her brow. She felt his paws sliding down her body, his steps becoming slightly unsteady.

“I just want to be melded with you... _all of you_...lets go for it...” his words were tinged with a purring growl; she felt his paws cup firmly around her rump and lift her off the floor, holding her tight against his chest, “Let's do it right here, who cares what anyone thinks! ” His fingers were rapidly sliding under the hem of her skirt.

“ _Nick!_ ” she snapped, shoving him hard in the chest and forcing herself out of his grasp. He stumbled back a step. Drawing back her paw, she slapped him hard across the muzzle, his face snapping to the side with the impact. “What the _hell_ is wrong with you!?” she hissed. Several of the animals dancing around them stopped at stared in shock.

When Nick turned back to look at her, the cause of his strange behaviour became obvious; his pupils were blown up to five times their normal size, his irises thin rings of emerald encircling black pools. He grinned at her with half lidded eyes, “Mmmmm _so_ _kinky_ , Carrots...didn't know you liked it rough...”

“Oh crap, Nick, you've been _drugged!_ ” she breathed, bringing her paws to her mouth as a sickly feeling of dread rose in her throat.

“Drugs? What? He's high!” whispered a nearby kudu.

“ _Junkie!_ I bet he's hopped up on Harbinger,” growled a bear.

“Isn't that the fox cop that got shot a while ago…?”

“Guess he couldn't hack it...”

A murmur of judgmental, sneering voices grew up around them and Judy was seized with a sense of rising panic. “ _Shit!_ ” she breathed, grabbing Nick by the arm and dragging him off the dance floor, “We have to get out of here, _now!_ ”

She rushed him to their booth, his gait becoming less steady with every step. She grabbed his empty glass and shoved it in her purse before dragging him as fast as she could to the exit; he _had_ to have been drugged – she figured someone must have slipped a mickey into his drink. She hoped the crime lab would be able to identify it later from residue on the glass.

They plunged out into the frigid night and Judy pushed him into the nearest alley, propping him against the wall as she frantically dialed Finnick's number. It rang several times and went to voice mail. “Damn it!” she said, ending the call and hitting '#taxi' instead. “Hello? I need a taxi at the Igloo Chill Lounge on Blizzard Street as soon as possible,” she said, trying not to sound completely frantic.

“Sure thing, be there in five,” came the reply.

She stared at Nick with a look of despair on her face. He was slouching against the brick wall, his head leaning on it at an awkward angle as he stared back with a bleary, love struck smile. “Your colours sound so luscious, Carrots,” he said, “I can see the cosmos in your eyeballs...”

“Oh Nick,” she said with a shuddering sigh, tears beginning to sting her eyes, “ _You're a mess..._ ”

“A mess of _success!_ ” he said, waving his paws and staring wide eyed at the sky, as if captivated by visions invisible to her, “I'm full of _tiger blood!_ ”

She groaned and slapped her palm over her face.


	13. Chapter 13

Within a few minutes, a cab pulled up at the curb. The moment it stopped, she pulled open the door and shoved him in. The driver was a mink dressed in jeans, a thick, scraggly, military style sweater and a flat cap. He spoke in a gruff, heavy Rawrssian accent, “Where you want to go?”

“To Zootopia Gen—” Judy began, but she was cut off as Nick grabbed her arm.

“ _NO!_ ” he said sharply, shaking his head and staring at her, “No hospitals!” There was a look of abject terror in his features that gave her pause.

“O...okay...” she said slowly, her eyes shifting to the driver and back to Nick, “Umm...then we'll go to your place I guess. What was the address again?”

“1955 Cypress Grove Lane,” he said, slumping over with his head on the door, apparently unconscious.

“Da, okay, we go,” said the mink, pulling the column shifter down and driving away from the curb.

They had driven for fifteen minutes or so when Nick recovered his senses somewhat and toppled away from the door and toward Judy, almost slumping on top of her. He stared at her for a few seconds, propped on his arm, before he spoke in a whisper. “Carrots...” he said, staring without blinking, “Can I tell you a secret about you?”

Her lip curled slightly at his bizarre behavior and unsettling, blown-pupiled stare, “What is it, Nick?”

He leaned a bit closer, his eyes darting around for a moment as if he was making sure they were alone. “You...smell,” he whispered, his tone strangely flat, “Like sunshine and rainbows.” He punctuated his comment with a firm nod, as if he had expressed a profound philosophical truth.

She couldn't repress a faint smile at that; even when he was high as a kite, he was still sweet to her.

“Carrots...” he said again, having returned to pressing his head awkwardly against the window.

“Yes, Nick?” she said softly, her paws folded in her lap as she turned to look at him.

“I don't feel so good...” he said. Suddenly, he lurched forward, his eyes wide, and threw up violently all over the floor between his footpaws.

A shocked look came over the driver and he pulled over sharply, slamming on the brakes. “Get out of car!” he roared, banging on the plexiglass divider, “He is puke all over upholstery! OUT!”

Judy jumped out of the taxi, hauling Nick along with her. He slammed the door with his footpaw, tottering and stumbling as the taxi peeled out, the driver hurling a stream of curses at them in Rawrssian as he departed.

Nick faltered and fell to one knee. “Carrots...why is the angry platypus stealing our submarine?” he asked, squinting into the night at the retreating tail lights. “Oh, wait...” he added after a moment, raising his index finger, “Hold that thought for a second...” He slumped forward, bracing himself on the curb and retching violently, emptying his stomach into the gutter.

Raindrops began pattering around them, building steadily until they were enveloped in a torrential downpour. Judy sighed sharply, reaching down to unfasten the straps on her shoes and pull them off. “Looks like we're walking, Nick,” she said, resignation in her voice, “Think you can lead me to your place?” She moved beside him, slipping his arm over her shoulder and supporting him as he stood up, her shoes dangling from her free paw.

“Mmmhmmm!” he said, nodding with half lidded eyes, “Nowhere I'd rather take you.”

She rolled her eyes and started walking. It took much of her strength to support him; his balance was shot and he slogged along with heavy steps. To Judy's surprise, he managed to remember exactly which turns and alleys to take, leading them deeper into the dingy streets of the older, more run down section of Savannah Central. After an hour's walk in the driving rain, they found themselves standing in front of the moldering edifice of a dilapidated brownstone not far from the canal district, drenched to their skin. Judy heaved a deep sigh and started up the steps, but Nick held her back.

“Not the front,” he said, his voice low and subdued; whatever he had been drugged with – she now strongly suspected it was Harbinger – was working its way through him, the euphoric high fading and leading to a crash.

He led her, still leaning on her for support, down the alley beside the building to a stairwell that descended steeply beneath the pavement. A steel door stood at the bottom with a small barred window beside it. There was a rusty sign riveted to the door which read 'Maintenance Room – No Admittance.'

She stopped in front of the door and looked at him, “Are you kidding me, Nick? You live in the _maintenance room?_ ”

“Got a deal on the rent,” he said matter-of-factly.

She looked expectantly at him; he stared blankly back at her for several rain drenched moments before she sighed sharply in exasperation. She fished for his keys in his trouser pockets, catching hold of his key ring and pulling it out. Finding the key that matched, she unlocked the door and shoved it open as they lurched inside.

She slammed the door and leaned her back against it in exhaustion. Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the dim light inside Nick's 'apartment' and she began to make out the details. The entrance opened into a large room with a high ceiling crisscrossed by a network of pipes and valves. To the left of the entrance was a single, old fashioned brass frame bed, its sheets and blanket in disarray and a pair of pajama pants laid across it. A simple, two drawer nightstand stood beside the bed with a digital alarm clock, a lamp, and a picture frame. The frame was turned toward the bed so she couldn't see the photograph. A well worn antique wooden desk and chair stood in the corner on the far side, various papers strewn over the top along with a jar that bristled with random pens and pencils.

Located on the wall opposite the door, Nick's 'closet' consisted of a low slung length of pipe with a row of uniforms, tropical shirts, trousers and a couple of jackets hung from it. Beside that, there was a refrigerator, then a short stretch of counter top with a steel boot sink set into it and a coffee maker sitting against the wall. There were shelves attached to the wall bearing a random assortment of kitchen utensils, bottles, canisters and jars of spices and condiments. A two burner electric hot plate was set on the far end, just below an open window with a makeshift fume hood constructed of foil pans and old dryer hose hanging down from it

To the right of the front door was another steel door set at a right angle to it, its safety window blacked out, which led to the small washroom.

Beyond the washroom was a small rectangular seating area set into the alcove created by a large set of double doors marked 'Danger-High Voltage.' The right hand wall of the alcove had an old, dingy couch, and opposite that stood a squat, wide cabinet with an old tube TV set on top. In between was a low coffee table

The only light that penetrated the shadowy interior came from several squat windows which lined the upper part of the old cement and stone walls, and the yellowish glow spilling through the partially open bathroom door from the light that had been left on. Outside, the rain was beating furiously against the pavement, intermingled with the occasional flash of lighting and low rumble of far off thunder.

“Great...you live in the boiler room and your apartment is still better than mine,” she said, frowning. She looked at him, adjusting his weight on her shoulder. “Come on, partner,” she said, leading him to the washroom, “We need to get you out of those wet clothes.”

“Mmmm...” he said, his eyelids drooping. Suddenly, his eyes began darting around. “Hey… _hey_...who said that?” he said, “Someone's here... _whispering._..”

“Nobody else is here, Nick, relax,” she said, patting his back. She half led, half pushed him into the bathroom. It included a small tub and shower, toilet, sink, and a dingy sheet mirror. There were no cabinets, so instead Nick had found a small wire shelf and placed it against the wall between the sink and toilet to hold his toothbrush, comb, shampoo and other toiletries. His towel bar was a narrow pipe that ran horizontally along the wall with two big fluffy towels hung over it.

She stripped off his dripping wet suit jacket and tossed it over the sink. She pulled his gun from its holster and unloaded it, setting it aside on the top shelf for the time being. Then she removed his tie, shirt, and trousers. Finally, when he stood in only his boxers, she turned her back, crossing her arms.

“All right, undies off and hop in the shower for a bit to get warm,” she said, blushing a little as the image of his dripping wet form clad only in underwear lingered in her mind's eye a bit longer than she would have liked, “I'll find you something to put on.”

He groaned in response and shuffled to the tub, clambering inside and pulling the curtain. He turned on the water and she heard the wet slap of his head bumping the wall under the faucet as he braced himself on it.

She quickly grabbed one of the towels and rubbed it over her head and shoulders, hoping to at least get most of the water and prevent her dripping all over Nick's apartment. Satisfied she was reasonably dry, she replaced the towel, grabbed his pistol and magazine, and stepped out of the washroom.

Remembering that his pajama bottoms were laid on his bed, she strode over to the night stand and tucked the gun into the drawer, then moved to grab the pajamas. She was about to turn back to the washroom when something caught her eye.

From where she stood now, she could see the photograph on the night stand; it was of her and Nick together on the day of his graduation from the Police Academy. It was a closeup of their heads and shoulders. Her arm was slung around his neck, her cheek pressed against his and a huge grin on her face. He wore a more subdued, but still broad, happy smile. She paused for a moment, staring at that photograph; it dawned on her that her face was the first thing Nick saw every morning and the last thing he saw every night.

The sound of the water shutting off snapped her back from her musings and she darted to the door. “You decent in there, Nick?” she asked, knocking on the door a few times.

A low groan responded, so she stuck her arm through the door, keeping her head on the outside. “Here's your PJ's. Put them on and let's get you in bed,” she said. Feeling him take them from her paw, she shut the door and leaned against the wall beside it. After a couple of minutes, the door opened and Nick emerged clad in the soft, loose fitting cotton pants. She took his paw and led him toward the bed.

His ears swiveled in all directions and he seemed distracted, his eyes darting around the room and his head glancing from right to left. She led him to the bed and quickly arranged the pillows, sheets and blankets into at least a semblance of proper order, pulling back the covers to let him climb in. He slid under the sheets and pulled the covers up, propping himself semi-sitting against the headboard.

“Thanks, Carrots...” he said, his eyelids heavy, his paws resting on top of the sheets over his stomach.

She smiled and patted the back of his paw. “It's okay, Nick,” she said, “Now, let me get washed up too...I'm soaked to the bone here.”

He watched as she moved over to his closet pipe and pulled a tee shirt off one of the hangers, then proceeded inside the bathroom and shut the door.

The metallic clang of the door echoed through the room and died away, but when silence descended on him, it was a more profound silence than he had ever heard. It was chilling, unnatural; there was absolutely no sound, not even the rain or the faint humming that normally came from the machinery behind his 'sitting room.'

Then the voices began. He heard whispers, indistinct sounds that wafted from the shadows. Then the shadows began to move. Fleeting shifts, sudden movements, dark shapes darting from one inky corner to another. He blinked hard, keeping his eyes shut for a few seconds in hopes of dispelling the specters intruding on his vision.

_You knew this was coming, Nicky...you always had it coming..._

Nick's eyes shot open and frantically searched the room; the voice he heard was the guttural, malicious voice of Laughing Jack. His breaths became rapid, his maw slightly parted, his heart beating faster and harder. Where was Carrots? Why couldn't he hear the shower?

_Welcome to Hell...heeheehee…it's where a savage like you belongs..._

The voice had come from his bedside, so close that the words were whispered in his ear and he could feel the hot breath on the sensitive membranes. He lurched to the side, but when he looked, there was nothing.

This time a different voice came from the foot of his bed.

_You're a disgrace, Nick...a shame on your family_

It bore a hint of familiarity, yet it was low and unnatural, with a hollow, otherworldly quality. Nick turned his gaze to the end of his bed, his eyes widening in horror at what he saw.

His father's moldering corpse was propped awkwardly in a chair before him, clad in the suit he was buried in, the cloth rotten, tattered, and stained with mildew. His fur was patchy, rough, and lifeless, and the flesh beneath was desiccated, clinging to his bones. He sat with his head awkwardly canted, his eye sockets black and empty, staring sightlessly into Nick's face. His jaw hung open at an odd angle, showing rows of stained teeth.

_You're a disgrace...you shame your mother...you shame me, Nick…_ his fathers otherworldly voice continued, seeming to come from somewhere far away, the rotten jaw remaining motionless even as he spoke.

“No... _no!_ ” Nick said, staring in horror at the nightmarish vision that refused to leave his sight, “This isn't real...”

Another voice intruded from the front door of his apartment, a feminine voice whose words were marred by a wet gurgling sound.

_You think you made a difference? Look at me!_

A young doe was standing by the door, her flesh deeply carved with brutal gashes, blood drenching her clothes and dripping from her eyes, mouth and nostrils. She held her blood soaked palms out to him in a pleading gesture. _You failed me…_ she said, her throat choked with her own blood, _You killed me..._

Nick shut his eyes again, trying to force the horrific visions away.  The voices became more insistent, multiplying even as he tried to hide behind his own eyelids. A gaggle of jabbering, random voices rang in his ears, deriding him, cursing him as a degenerate fox, a con artist, a criminal,  a worthless lowlife . 

Among them he heard Bogo's bass tones sneering,  _You're a disgrace to the badge; I knew I should never have trusted you._

“Nick…? _”_

It was Judy's voice coming from the direction of the bathroom. He opened his eyes in hopes the sight of her would set him free from his living nightmare, but his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach at what he saw: she was standing in the doorway, haloed in the sickly yellowish glow of the bathroom light, her uniform riddled with bloody bullet holes and stained brown with dried blood. Her flesh was rotten and decaying, her fur dull and lifeless, her eyes hollow black sockets. Her ears, broken and sagging, hung unnaturally from her head. She shambled across the floor toward him as his eyes went wide with terror and despair. He tried to scramble away, pressing his back painfully against the headboard. “No... _oh no, no, no..._ ” he gasped.

Judy moved to the edge of the bed, clad in one of his gray tee shirts that hung to her knees. Her brow furrowed as she saw the abject horror in Nick's eyes as he looked at her. She realized he must be having a terrible hallucination, not seeing her for who she really was. “Nick, listen, it's me, Judy,” she said gently, hoping to penetrate the veil of falsehood brought on by the drug, “It's okay, Nick, I'm here with you.” She moved closer, climbing up on the end of the bed.

Nick's whole body trembled, his mouth hanging open as he gasped for breath, his heart thundering so hard in his chest she could see the movement in his fur. Tears streamed down his cheeks and his eyes were wide as saucers, staring at her. When he spoke, his voice was a choked whisper, “Oh no, not you...please, Judy... _I can't lose you..._ ”

Unable to bear it any longer, she threw her arms around his neck, straddling his hips and pressing her body against his chest. She brought her muzzle to his ear, speaking with firm but gentle tones. “Nick, _listen to me_ ; I'm fine, I'm here with you. Everything is okay,” she said, holding him tightly, refusing to let go even as he shuddered with revulsion in her embrace, his fists clenching in the sheets. “It's not real, Nick...you're hallucinating. Listen to my voice...come back to me.”

His trembling slowed and finally ceased, the ragged edge of his breathing smoothing out. The thudding of his heart against her chest dissipated until she could no longer feel it, and gradually she felt the tension drain away from his muscles. A few quiet moments passed, the silence unbroken save by the soft puffs of their breaths and the steady rhythm of the rain on the pavement outside.

Finally, Nick raised his arms and wrapped them tightly around her. They lay like that for several minutes, his back pressed against the headboard, her body enfolded in his embrace, pressed against the soft bare fur of his chest. With a long, deep sigh, he raised his paw to cup her cheek, gently guiding her back far enough to look into her eyes.

When their eyes met, she could see that his pupils, although still unusually large, had constricted back to nearly their normal size. “Wh..what happened to me, Carrots?” he asked, his voice weak.

“You were drugged...I think someone slipped Harbinger into your drink at the lounge somehow,” she said, cupping her paw around the back of his neck and absently rubbing with gentle strokes of her fingertips, “Maybe both of them, judging by how messed up you were. It must have been someone working for Hargrieve...”

He searched her gaze for some moments before a weak smile came to his lips, “You're the hope at the bottom of the box.”

Judy perked a brow, tilting her head quizzically at him, her arms still draped around his shoulders.

“Pandora's Box,” he said, “That's how Swinton described Harbinger...like opening Pandora's Box inside your brain.”

Judy nodded, her nose twitching as she recalled Swinton's words at the lab.

“When all the evils of the world had been released from Pandora's Box, the last thing left at the bottom...was hope,” Nick said, tenderly stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb, “You're the only animal in this city who would have believed in me tonight, Judy.”

“I _know you_ , Nick,” she said, her eyes slipping closed as she nuzzled into his paw, “You're a lot of things, but you're no junkie.” She smiled faintly, cupping her paw over his and turning her head to plant a soft kiss in his palm, “Besides...I know you care too much for me to risk our relationship over something like that, not to mention risking your job.”

He heaved a shuddering sigh, a bittersweet smile still on his lips as he gazed at her, his paw still tenderly caressing her cheek. “Seems the deck is stacked against us, huh, Carrots?” he said, his voice hushed, a hint of bitterness in his words, “Every time we try to get a little closer, the world just beats us down again.”

“The deck's always been stacked against us, Nick...even before we knew each other,” she whispered, opening her eyes to meet his gaze, “At least now we're in the fight together.”

“Nobody I'd rather have fighting beside me,” he said, slipping his arm around her back as she nestled under his chin, her arms wrapped around his chest.

“Hey, glass half full,” she said with a grin, “Looks like we got a little closer anyhow, despite the world's best efforts.”

“Mmhmmmm,” he said, his voice a drowsy moan, “Although...I feel like I just got run over by a truck.” He began to tremble, the shivering rapidly becoming more intense until his teeth started chattering.

“You okay, Nick?” she said, drawing back in alarm.

“C..cold...all of a s...s...sudden...” he said, his eyes remaining shut.

“Under the covers, then,” she said, moving so he could scoot down before she pulled the blankets and sheets up to his neck. Nestling in beside him, she tucked herself under his arm and lay her head on his chest. He was already insensible, his eyes firmly shut and his breathing taking on the steady rhythm of sleep. The combination of her closeness and the blankets seemed to calm his shivering, and it eventually died away.

As he slept, she lay awake, her head slowly rising and falling with his breaths, her fingers splayed in the white fur of his chest. Her mind raced over what to do; there was no way Nick would be well enough to work the next day, and he was so utterly exhausted he couldn't even phone in. There was no telling what other effects the drug might have on him, so she'd have to stay with him all night to make sure he was okay. She had to work the next day too, of course, and calling in at the same time as Nick was out of the question – they'd be caught for sure. Finally, with a faint sigh, she resigned herself.

Slowly, carefully, she extracted herself from under his arm and his blankets, tucking him back in before moving over to the door where she had dropped her purse when they entered. She rummaged around in it and pulled out her phone. She dialed the office number and held her breath as she wondered who might answer, mentally rehearsing her spiel about Nick and why she was calling in for him in the middle of the night.

“ZPD, how can I help you tonight?” Clawhauser said as he answered the call.

Judy's shoulders drooped with relief; at least Clawhauser was a friend and might be a little more understanding than one of the dispatchers she didn't know.

“Hey, Clawhauser, listen,” she said, glancing at Nick's sleeping form, “Nick asked me to call in for him; he's feeling really sick and can't make it tomorrow.”

“Awwwwww,” Clawhauser said, his tone awash in sympathy, “Sorry to hear that...but...wait a sec, howcome you're calling in for him in the middle of the night?”

“Uhhh….cuz...he called me and asked me to…?” Judy said, feeling panic rising in her gut.

“So...howcome he didn't just call me instead and save you the trouble…?” Clawhauser said, sounding more confused by the moment.

Suddenly, Nick began snoring loudly, the noise echoing off the stone walls. Judy was officially panicking.

“What is that awful noise...it sounds kinda like... _is that snoring?_ ” Clawhauser said slowly.

“It's...it's umm...” Judy faltered; she wasn't used to lying, so excuses didn't come readily to mind.

“Oh...em... _goodness_ ,” Clawhauser interjected, his voice dropping to an intense whisper.

“Oh no...” Judy said, her ears drooping.

There was a long squee of delight from the other end of the phone and Judy dragged her palm down her face in despair. “Okay, listen, just stop, Clawhauser, _stop!_ ” she said, slicing the air with her paw for emphasis.

“ _Did...you...guys…?!_ ” Clawhauser said slowly; Judy could practically see the look of utter bewilderment on his face by the sound of his voice.

“ _No, no we did not!_ ” Judy said firmly, “Not that it's any— _why are you even asking_ _that_ _?_ ”

“Wow...you totally did _T_ _he_ _D_ _o_...”

“ _NO, we did_ _not do The Do_ _!”_ she whispered sharply, “Will you just listen to me, please?! It's complicated…and I just need you to _please_ keep this all to yourself, okay?”

“Your secrets are safe with me, Judy!”

“Okay, so part of keeping secrets,” Judy said, rubbing her forehead in exasperation, “Is not saying things like that out loud while you are sitting at the front desk in the _very_ large and _very_ public foyer of the First Precinct…even if it is two a.m.”

“Oooooooh, riiiiiiiight,” Clawhauser whispered into the phone, “Gotcha….” There was a long pause, and Judy was about to speak again when Clawhauser broke in,

“So, how long have you guys been dating? Any wedding plans?”

“ _Oh sweet cheese and crackers..._ ”


	14. Chapter 14

Judy sat in contemplative silence, awash in morning sunlight, as the monorail wound its way through Savannah Central. A turbulent maelstrom of emotion raged behind her placid exterior as she stared at her reflection in the glass; for the first time in her life, she wasn't sure what to feel.

On the one hand, their date had been an unmitigated disaster that showed just how powerful and implacable an enemy Laughing Jack really was, resulting in Nick going through what looked like the most horrific psychological trauma of his life. Yet on the other hand they had come through it all together, just as they always did, and in the end, she felt closer to him than ever. Even so, she still had anxiety about Nick's condition gnawing at the back of her mind; she wanted nothing else but to be by his side at that moment, but to do so would jeopardize both their careers. At least until the shift was over, she had to be apart from him.

She strode quickly along the short walk from the train station to Fangmeyer's building. She paused briefly outside the door of the apartment, key in paw, as she considered what she was going to say. It was pretty obvious that Fangmeyer would make the same assumption Clawhauser did, so it would take some explaining. In the end, she just sighed and opened the door, stepping inside.

Fangmeyer was sitting at the bar counter that separated her kitchen from her dining area, clad in her silk bathrobe and sipping coffee from a large mug. When she saw Judy enter, her ears perked up sharply and a wry grin spread across her muzzle. “Well, well _well!_ ” she said, setting down her mug, “Looks like the details ended up a lot juicier than I imagined!”

Judy clambered up on the next stool beside Fangmeyer, casting a glance and a weak smile at her friend, “Not nearly as juicy as you'd think,” She looked longingly at the steaming mug of coffee on the counter, nodding toward it, “Got any of that left?”

“Oh, sure!” Fangmeyer said, rising from her stool and walking around the counter into the kitchen. She grabbed a mug that seemed an appropriate size for Judy and placed it down, about to turn and reach for the coffee carafe.

Judy smiled, “Umm, got anything bigger? I haven't slept.”

Fangmeyer perked a brow, replacing the mug with a larger one, nearly as big as her own.

“Perfect!” Judy said with a grin.

“Geeze, that fox of yours must _really_ be crazy for you if you two were... _busy_...all night,” Fangmeyer said with a bemused chuckle.

“Oh, no!” Judy said, waving her paws as a fierce blush came over her inner ears, “We didn't...um…. _do the do_...so to speak.” She figured Clawhauser's euphemism was as good as any at this point.

Fangmeyer gave Judy and incredulous look as she filled her mug with fresh coffee before setting the carafe back into the coffee maker, “Weeeellll...then what _were_ you doing that kept you out all night long?”

“I've got a little time before I have to start getting ready, so I can tell you,” Judy said, “But I'll warn you it's going to sound weird...”

-~x0x~-

Nick awoke to a sensation akin to someone jackhammering out of his skull from the inside. He groaned and reached out with both arms, feeling among the sheets; Judy was gone. He puffed a soft sigh as the torrent of memories of the previous night flooded back into his mind. Trying hard to focus only on the last one before he fell asleep and let it drown out the others, he rolled over and opened his eyes to check the clock.

Panic gripped him and he shot bolt upright, sending a sharp pain crashing through his skull, as he saw the time: 11:40. He threw back the covers and was about to leap from his bed when he noticed a small, white piece of paper neatly folded in half and laying beside his phone in front of the picture of Judy and him. His name was written on it in Judy's writing.

He unfolded it and read:

_Hey Nick,_

_Don't panic; I called in sick for you last night. I knew there was no way you could function after what you went through. Also don't panic about the sick call – Clawhauser promised not to tell anyone about you and me. Your gun is in your night stand drawer, by the way._

_I wish I could have stayed to take care of you, but I had to leave at ten to get to work on time, since my stuff is at Lucy's. Take it easy today and feel better; I'll call you when I get off work. Made coffee for you!_

_Judy_

_P.S. This will sound really weird, but even though last night was horrible in the middle, how it started and how it ended were really special._

It suddenly dawned on Nick that he was enveloped by the scent of fresh coffee. He looked around the room and realized Judy had tidied up pretty much everything. The papers on his desk were neatly arranged, his closet pipe was organized, the shelves in his little kitchen area were straightened up. He rose from bed and peeked into the bathroom – everything in there had been given the same treatment, and his suit, tie and shirt were hung up to dry over the shower curtain rod.

He smiled despite the pain thundering in his frontal lobe and headed to the coffee maker. Stooping to grab a mug from the cupboard beneath the counter, he noticed another note folded up on the counter. He set his mug down and opened the note:

_Hi again,_

_I hope the coffee is fresh. I took a guess at when you'd wake up and set the timer. There's three headache pills in a little bowl beside the coffee maker for you. If you need me today, for anything at all, call me and I'll be there in a flash. Call me later anyway, because I'll be worried about you._

_Looking forward to our next date—no, really! :)_

_Judy_

“Oh, Carrots...” Nick said softly, staring at the note, “What would I do without you?” He laughed in spite of himself; somehow, she had the power to expunge the haunting darkness of the previous night merely by being herself. By her relentless optimism, her boundless faith in him, she tempted him to believe there was nothing they couldn't overcome, so long as they were together.

His habitually cynical mind kept whispering to him that it was a childish thought, foolishness that would be crushed sooner or later by the weight of pitiless reality, and yet his heart yearned to believe. He had never known anyone who lived with such unreserved hope, and he loved it. Pouring the coffee, watching it swirl as it filled the cup, he decided that even if the road Judy was leading him down ended at a cliff, it was worth walking every step of the way with her.

~o~

Nick had gone back to sleep shortly after his first awakening, the headache pills soothing much of the pounding in his skull. The sun was getting low on the horizon by the time he awoke again, and he was filled with an intense desire to check in with Judy. He grabbed his phone and hit the speed dial.

It rang twice before Judy picked up. “Nick!” she said, her excitement almost palpable, “How are you feeling?”

“Much better, thanks to you, Carrots,” he said, a smile curling along his lips as he sat on the edge of his bed in the waning light of early evening.

“I've been so worried about you all day; thanks for calling me,” she said, “I did some checking up on the Igloo, and I managed to get some evidence that might show who drugged you. I'll tell you about it later. I was thinking maybe I could grab some nice soup from this place I know and bring it over for you after work.”

He chuckled softly. “That'd be nice, thanks,” he said, his voice hushed. There was a pause before he added, “Judy, listen...I'm sorry for what happened at the lounge.”

“What're you talking about, Nick? It wasn't your fault!” she said, taken aback, “You weren't yourself.”

“It's just been bugging me, what I tried to do...” he said, rubbing his forehead as he searched for the right words, the memory of her body pressed against him, his paws wrapped around her rump strangely vivid in his mind, “I...you're so much more to me than that, Judy...you need to know, I respect you.”

“Nick you big goof,” she said with a faint chuckle, “I understand; I know what kind of mammal you really are. Don't let it bother you, okay?”

There was a long pause as he considered her words; she was so quick to forgive him, even when he wasn't ready to forgive himself. “Thanks, Carrots,” he said finally.

“I'm getting a call from dispatch, so I'll see you after work, okay? Take care!” she said.

“Stay safe, partner,” he said, ending the call.

-~x0x~-

The following morning, they resumed their usual routine, meeting just inside the foyer and heading off to the briefing together. They hadn't gone half way, however, before Bogo intercepted them. He regarded Nick with a cold stare, his lips set in a grim scowl. He shifted his eyes to Judy. “Briefing's canceled today, Hopps,” he said, his tone clipped, “Wilde – be in my office in five minutes.” With that, he turned on his heel and marched away.

Judy stared at the Chief's back with a quizzical perk of her brow. “What the heck was that about?” she asked, glancing at Nick. His lips were drawn into a taut line, a harrowed look in his eyes. He sighed and shut his eyes for a few moments, then spoke without looking at her, “See you around, Carrots.”

There was a tone of finality in his comment that alarmed Judy. She watched him stride toward the elevators and step inside. The longing gaze he cast at her before the doors closed worried her even more.

It was typical for Bogo to yell at officers from the balcony when he wanted to give them a dressing down, just as he had with her the first time she arrested Duke Weaselton. The fact that he had met them on the floor, the fact that he had wanted to speak to Nick almost right away, but not accompany him to the office, the grim look on his face, all of it added up to something bad. She paused a moment, considering what to do. Finally, a look of resolution came over her and she headed for the stairs.

Nick rapped on the door of Bogo's office three times, adjusting and tightening his tie as he waited for the response. When the Chief's bass invitation sounded from inside, he pushed open the door and entered, shutting it firmly behind him.

Bogo was standing at the left hand window behind his desk when Nick entered. The 'hot seat,' usually placed squarely in front of the desk, had been pushed off to the side. “You asked to see me, sir,” Nick said, his tone far more subdued than usual.

“Anything you want to tell me about what happened at the Igloo Lounge the day before yesterday, Officer Wilde?” Bogo began, still facing the window.

“I'd rather hear what you have to tell me about it, sir,” Nick replied.

“You know something funny?” Bogo said, turning to face Nick, “I didn't want to believe it when I first heard it. That's how much you've influenced my opinion of you, and foxes in general. I didn't want to believe it, but I have the same information from multiple sources.”

Nick remained silent, his arms hanging at his sides. He watched as Bogo strode to his desk, pulling out the chair and sinking into it.

Bogo planted his elbows on the desk, frowning and cupping his fist with his other hoof. He rested his chin on it for a moment before speaking again. “You screwed up, Wilde...you were witnessed by numerous patrons behaving in a manner that made all of them say they thought you were high, probably on Harbinger. Not only that, but you and Hopps just happened to have made the first Harbinger bust only a short while before, and _you_ are the one who logged the evidence in. I have no choice but to suspend you pending an internal affairs invest—”

The office door crashed open, rattling the frosted pane so violently it seemed it would break, and Judy rushed in with all the force of a tiny typhoon. She marched up and stood beside Nick. The fox's jaw was hanging open as she stared hard at the chief.

Bogo slammed his hooves onto the desk, “What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?!”

“Sir! Pardon the interruption, but you're making a mistake. There is _no question_ that Officer Wilde was drugged without his knowledge or consent.” Judy stated matter-of-factly.

Bogo furrowed his brow, half rising from his seat, “Leaving aside the issue that you were eavesdropping at my door just now...how exactly can you be so sure of that?”

Judy blinked and cast a furtive glance at Nick. She felt hotness rising in her cheeks, but she summoned all her courage, and in a more subdued voice replied, “Because, sir, we were together all evening. He was perfectly normal when he picked me up from Fangmeyer's around five. We went to The Iceberg Lounge, and it wasn't until we had been there for some time that he started acting strangely. We were never apart, so I have no doubt that someone drugged one or more of his drinks before they arrived at our table, sir.”

Nick glanced at Judy, “Carrots, you don't have to...”

“Yes, I do, Nick,” she said, half turning and resting her paw on his arm. When she looked back to the Chief, Bogo's brows were raised in a look of total astonishment. He stood silently for a moment before abruptly striding out from behind his desk and across the room. He looked into the hall briefly before shutting the door and resuming his seat.

“You can corroborate this, I presume?” he said, his eyes fixed on Judy.

“Yes, sir. Of course Officer Fangmeyer can vouch for the time Nick arrived, and I took the liberty of requesting the surveillance footage from the night in question, which the owner provided voluntarily. An analysis of the footage is likely to show who spiked Officer Wilde's drink.”

“And perhaps you have some insight into why Officer Wilde called in a sick day the following shift?” Bogo continued, crossing his arms over his barrel chest.

“Because he was violently ill, sir, presumably as a result of the unknown drug,” Judy said, “His symptoms were consistent with what we know of Harbinger.”

“Violently?” Bogo pressed, glancing from one to the other, “If you believed he was drugged with an unknown substance, possibly a drug known to be potentially fatal, and he was _violently ill_ from it, why didn't you take him to the hospital?”

“Because I _refused_ , sir,” Nick broke in, taking half a step forward, his fists clenched, “Because I knew nobody would believe me, especially not you. You said it yourself, Chief – the whole thing looks bad for me; I knew there were plenty of mammals out there who'd love to see the first fox cop go down in flames. J...Officer Hopps sat by my bed and took care of me all night. She may have saved my life, sir.”

Bogo leaned back in his seat, “I see. Is there anything else that you need to add, Hopps?”

“No sir,” she said, shaking her head, “That's everything we know.”

The hulking cape buffalo sat back and stared at them for a few moments before speaking again, “Very well. This internal affairs investigation is officially closed. Officer Wilde is cleared of any wrongdoing, and I am assigning the case to the Drug Squad for further investigation into charges of assault of a police officer and administering a noxious substance, on animals presently unknown…”

Judy's face lit up and she seemed on the verge of throwing her arms around Nick's neck and hugging him, but she managed to restrain herself.

Bogo continued, “Incidentally, I'm sure I don't need to remind you of the policy regarding fraternization between senior officers and the probationary officers they are _coaching_...” He punctuated his comment by raising a brow and peering at Judy.

Judy froze, looking like she'd be slapped in the face. She made a faint choking sound in her throat and shook her head. Nick glanced at her and rolled his eyes; she would have been an awful poker player.

“I thought not. Good. Officer Hopps, would you please see yourself out? I have a few more things to say to Officer Wilde.”

“Y..yes sir...” Judy said, then quickly turned and departed, closing the door behind her.

“I'm surprised you're closing the file that quickly, sir...not that I'm complaining, obviously,” Nick said, turning back to the Chief after Judy left.

Bogo knitted his brow for a moment, then sat back in his chair, “Can you think of a more honest, trustworthy cop, off the top of your head, Wilde? Nothing in this world would make her dishonor her badge, not even _personal attachments_. If Hopps is vouching for you, that's good enough for me.”

Nick smiled, “Sounds about right, sir.”

The Chief tapped his desk a few times, staring at the file in silence before he looked back to Nick, “You've had quite a raucous first several months...what is it, ten now?”

Nick nodded silently.

“You've been shot, drugged, been in dozens of fights, made upwards of fifty arrests, not to mention that you and Hopps have done a great deal to heal the divisions in the city and elevate the image of the ZPD. You've been in more tight scrapes than any other rookie I can think of in recent memory... _save one_.”

Nick couldn't repress a smile at that, and if he didn't know better, he could have sworn a smile crept across Bogo's face too before vanishing as quickly as it came.

“I'm putting you on two months paid stress leave. You need to take a bit of time to sort things out, Officer Wilde...give yourself a chance to recover from all this. _Take stock of what's_ _really_ _important._ ” Bogo said, leaning back in his chair again and regarding the fox with a discerning gaze.

“Chief, I don't need—!” Nick started to protest, but Bogo cut him off.

“You know, it's a funny thing...the fraternization policy doesn't apply to an officer who's off on leave. Strange how these things work...” now the faint smile really did appear, and it remained for a few more moments, “Another funny coincidence: by the time I see you again, your probation will be finished. Isn't that something…?”

Nick blinked several times in astonishment. At length, he simply said, “Thank you, sir.” He stood to attention, saluted and turned to leave. As he reached for the door, he heard the Chief's voice once more.

“Nick...” he said, not looking up from the papers he was absently shuffling on his desk.

Nick perked a brow in surprise at hearing the Chief call him by his first name. He looked back over his shoulder.

“You're a damn good cop, and we're all proud of you. Just remember, you aren't defined by your past; _you_ decide who you want to be. Oh, and one last thing...you may want to mention to Hopps that now would be a good time for her to submit a vacation request. It's going to be granted. Good day.”

With a smile and a nod, Nick slipped out into the hall, shutting the door quietly behind him.

-~x0x~-

Three days later, on their first day off, Judy stood in front of the towering mirror hung in the living room of Lucy's apartment, turning from side to side as she looked herself over. She wore a simple but elegant white sundress with a lavender floral print. It had a ruffled skirt with a form fitting bodice that was held up by a wide strap that ran behind the neck, leaving the back open, and she had on a large, floppy palm straw sun hat with a pastel pink ribbon and bow. She had painted her finger and toe claws a vibrant candy red, and she wore matching lipstick. As she fretted over her appearance, Fangmeyer strolled by clad in sweats and a 'Born Feral' tee shirt, the morning paper clasped in one paw and a mug of coffee in the other.

“Pretty as a picture, Jude!” Fangmeyer said with a smile, leaning over the counter to catch a glimpse of Judy in the mirror, “Nick's going to be floored.”

“Thanks, Lucy!” Judy said, turning to Fangmeyer with a shy smile, “I'm nervous...I don't even know where we're going.”

As she spoke, the memory of Nick's cryptic phone call returned to her. _Let's take a trip together,_ he had said, but when she asked where, he simply replied, _You let me_ _worry about_ _that._ His final remark before he hung up was: _Why don't you w_ _ear something pretty?_ _O_ _ur first trip together is a special occasion._

“That sly fox of yours sure loves to surprise you,” Fangmeyer said with a wistful smile, “It's very sweet. Not many males are like that, you know.”

Judy chuckled softly, a faint blush rising in her ears, “Yeah...Nick is really special.”

The sound of a tinkling bell interrupted their conversation as Judy's phone received a text. She pulled it out of her handbag and tapped in the unlock code.

The text was from Nick; it read: Outside waiting for you

“Gotta run, Lucy!” Judy said, slinging her handbag over her shoulder, grabbing her small suitcase and heading for the door, “See you in a few days or so!”

“So you think!” Fangmeyer said with a chuckle, “Who knows? he might whisk you off for a cruise in the Mediterranean or something.”

Judy waved and flashed an excited grin as she disappeared out the door.

It was a brilliant late spring morning as Judy pushed open the front door of Fangmeyer's building and stepped out. A cobbled walkway led from the door to a low staircase down to the sidewalk; casting her eyes about briefly, Judy quickly caught sight of Nick. What she saw elicited a soft gasp and a flutter in her chest.

He wore a three piece suit in rich, dark hunter green wool. It had elegant peaked lapels with a two button closure thathe had left unfastened to reveal the matching vest, which melded smoothly to the crisply pressed trousers beneath. His shirt was crisp white, causing the gold silk tie with its large scale blue paisley design to stand out beautifully. He had a yellow pocket square tucked into the breast pocket of his jacket.

Every inch of his fur had been meticulously scrubbed and groomed such that it glowed in the morning sunlight. He had on his aviators and appeared distracted by something on his phone, his free paw tucked, as usual, into the pocket of his trousers.

As Judy gawked at him, he suddenly noticed her standing at the top of the steps and did a double take. Tucking his phone inside his jacket, he removed his shades, hanging them from his breast pocket, and stared at her with an expression of awe and admiration. A warm smile crept its way inexorably across his muzzle. They gazed at each other for a long moment before it dawned on Judy that he was leaning casually on the fender of a gorgeous black convertible with red interior parked at the curb in front of the building.

She lightly descended the steps and dashed up to him, clutching her suitcase in front of her as she grinned up at him. “You sure clean up nicely, Mister Wilde,” she said.

“Well, you look stunning, Carrots,” he said softly, his broad smile never fading.

She felt an intense flush come over her cheeks, her nose beginning to twitch furiously. “Thank you,” she said, glancing away. Her eyes wandered back to the gleaming black car and she leaned over, running her eyes over its supple curves. “Is this... _your_ car, Nick?” she asked, unable to keep a hint of awe from seeping into her voice.

With its low, wide stance, its fenders flared aggressively over the wheels, and its hood sloping to a sharp edge with hideaway headlights, the car looked like it was going a hundred miles an hour standing still. Its bumper, wire wheels with spin off hubs, door handles and trim were all wrought in gleaming chrome, and all bore sleek, aerodynamic styling. Its interior was upholstered and trimmed in plush red fabric, and the double cowl dashboard was tastefully accented with chrome. The three spoke steering wheel was elegantly carved from rosewood and polished to a high sheen.

“Sure is. It's a 1963 Chevalier Manta,” Nick said, a wistful smile spreading over his lips as he looked over the car and ran his paw along the fender, “V8 engine, lots of power and torque...and it gets you there in style.” He stood upright and extended his paw, “May I take your bag, Miss Hopps, and we'll begin our date, take two?”

She chuckled softly and gave it to him, “So this is what you were 'taking care of' last week? Very sneaky, Nick.”

“Well, it's been decades since I took a road trip,” he said with a grin, “I figured I was due, and I might as well do it right.” He popped the trunk and placed her suitcase inside, then moved to the passenger door, opening it for her and bowing with a flourish of his free paw, “Your seat, Ma'am”

She bounded into the seat, a broad grin spread over her muzzle as she fastened the seat belt. Nick closed the door with a bemused smile, then strolled around the front and climbed behind the wheel. Shutting the door, he snapped open his aviator shades and slipped them on, casting a grin at Judy before turning the key. The powerful V8 engine stirred to life with a deep, throaty rumble and they pulled away from the curb, cruising off down the street.

Judy, still grinning broadly, held onto her hat for a while before deciding to tuck it behind the seat. She pulled a pair of black rimmed sunglasses from her handbag and slipped them on, leaning back and letting the wind blow her ears. After a few moments, she turned her gaze to Nick. “This car is _fantastic_ ,” she said, stretching her arms and legs out, then crossing her ankles and resting her paws on her belly, “Niiick...did you buy an awesome car just to impress your girlfriend?”

A shock ran through Nick's form, expressing itself as a faint parting of his lips and a flick of his ear. She had never called herself his girlfriend before; he liked the sound of it. After a moment he mastered himself and flashed her a wry grin. “Not _just_ to impress you, although I'm _very_ glad you're impressed,” he said, “Actually, the truth is...maybe kind of silly...” A wistful expression came over him and he fixed his eyes on the road. He guided the car deftly onto the viaduct that led to the bridge out of town.

“So, the truth is…?” she persisted, watching him with great interest, her nose making faint anticipatory twitches.

Nick smiled, stroking his thumb over the smooth, gleaming rosewood of the steering wheel, casting his gaze briefly over the double cowls of the dashboard. “This...was my dad's car,” he said quietly.

“As in... _this actual car_ belonged to your dad?”

He nodded in response, checking over his shoulder before downshifting and rolling into the passing lane. The engine growled louder as he poured on the power and deftly zipped past a lumbering truck before resuming the cruising lane.

She reached out to him with a gentle touch of his arm. “There's nothing silly about that, Nick,” she said. She watched him intently, waiting to hear more.

He shot her a brief glance, seeing that she wasn't about to leave it at that, so he continued. “My dad loved this car; he had it before he and mom got married,” he said, his tone carefully measured, “When he got sick, he had to sell it to a friend of his, a lawyer in the firm by the name of Beaverton, to raise money for treatment. He made Beaverton promise that if he ever wanted to sell it, he had to give dad first refusal.”

Judy nodded, sitting fully upright again and leaning in closer, captivated by Nick's story.

He continued, “For a long time I...distanced myself...from anything that reminded me of my dad. But lately...after everything that happened, seeing mom again, you and me...just _everything_ , you know? I guess I changed my mind. I wanted to find something that had a connection to him...something I could hold onto, something I had personal memories of. I called my mom one night and we were talking about old times, and we got to talking about dad's old car – sometimes when I was really little, he'd take me out driving, just the two of us, and we'd talk. As much as a five year old and his dad can talk about things anyway.”

“Awwwww!” Judy said, beaming at him, “That's so sweet, Nick...how did you ever find the car again, though?”

He slung his arm over the door, leaning back in his seat with one paw draped over the bottom of the wheel. His shoulders relaxed as he continued the story. “Well, mom told me about Beaverton and how he was still with the firm, that they talked now and then, and I decided to call him up and ask if he still had dad's old car,” he said, a faint smile curling his lips as he spoke, “Turned out he still had it. I asked him if he'd consider selling it, and he invited me over for a beer.”

“He didn't say yes or no? That's a bit odd,” Judy said.

“I thought so too, but I went over. He showed me the car – it was in decent shape but needed some work. We talked over beers, and he actually tried to give me the car for free,” Nick said.

“You're kidding!” Judy said, her jaw dropping.

“Nope, it's true. I told him I couldn't accept that, and he countered by selling it to me for the _exact_ price he paid my dad – obviously far less than it's worth today,” Nick said, “It didn't take much more than a tune up, some new tires and a good detail job and she's good as new.” There was a brief pause, then Nick cleared his throat, blinking several times; Judy could tell he was struggling to keep a tight lid on his emotions. “Beaverton told me that dad wasn't just a good friend, but an _inspiration_ to him. He said seeing the car go to me was worth ten times as much as the car itself.”

“Oh wow,” Judy breathed, unable to keep the massive grin from her face, “Nick...that's so awesome.”

By that time they had gone all the way across the bridge and emerged into the small suburbs on the far side of the bay. The thick pine forests that ringed Zootopia loomed in the distance as the last traces of urbanization vanished in the rear view mirror, to be replaced first by quaint bungalows with manicured lawns, then eventually by the rolling hills, ramshackle fences and tumble down barns of farmland.

Judy, who had been leaning back in her seat with her arm slung over the door, looking utterly blissful as the breeze washed over her, suddenly perked her ears and turned her head to him, “Oh, hey, I totally forgot to ask you; where are we going anyway?”

Nick flashed her a wry smirk. Rather than answering her directly, he reached for the radio and clicked it on. A rich, drawling voice wafted from the speakers, accompanied by the strumming of an acoustic guitar:

— _Reminiscin' this 'n' that and havin' such a good time_  
Oo-de-lally, Oo-de-lally, golly what a day  
  
Never ever thinkin' there was danger in the water  
They were drinkin', they just guzzled it down  
  
Never dreamin' that a schemin' sherrif and his posse  
Was a-watchin' them and gatherin' around...

Nick perked a brow, “So this is what you country folk listen to...not exactly Gazelle, but I guess I could get used to it.”

Judy was smiling broadly, her paw tapping on her knee. “Yeah, I used to love this song as a kid...” she said. Suddenly, her eyes went wide and she flailed her arms, squirming in her seat and clicking off the radio. She stared hard at Nick. “Whoa, _whoa!_ Wait just a minute!” she said, her voice low, “Are you telling me we're going to _Bunnyburrow?!_ ”

He turned to her with a broad, self-satisfied smile. She responded by running her paws down her ears and tugging at them anxiously.

“Nick, what did you do!?” she asked, a panicked look coming over her.

He knit his brows in consternation. “I called up your mom and dad, told 'em we were coming out for a visit,” he said, “I asked them if there were any good motels for me to stay at, but they insisted I should stay at the guest cottage on the farm. I thought that was very nice of them.”

“Oh my gosh, Nick, _are you crazy?!_ ” she said, slumping back in her seat, stroking one of her ears repeatedly, “We can't just...how am I...what am I gonna say?”

“About what?”

“About _us,_ Nick!” she said, glancing at him with a desperate, pleading look, “I can't believe you just invited yourself home to meet my parents; _who does that?!_ ”

His frown deepened and he gripped the wheel tightly with both paws. “How about telling them the truth, Carrots?” he said, his voice low, “Is that so bad?”

“Nick, I...” she began, then faltered.

She looked utterly desperate. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore. He pulled the car over to the shoulder, slamming the shifter into neutral and pulling the parking brake. He let out a sharp sigh, sitting rigidly and staring out the windshield for a few moments before he spoke. “Are you ashamed to be with a fox, is that it?” he said, “Are we back to this again, Carrots? _Really?_ ”

“No, _no!_ ” she said, unfastening her seat belt and reaching out to grasp his arm as she scrambled to her knees in the seat, “Nick...it's not that at all…”

“So what's the issue?” he said, turning to her with a deeply pained expression, “You met my mom! You just said this morning I'm your boyfriend, so why shouldn't I meet _your_ parents?!”

“I'm…I'm scared, Nick,” she said softly, her nose twitching as she looked away. She seemed about to cry.

“Scared of _what?_ ” he asked, moderating his tone as he saw wetness welling in her eyes, “Scared they'll disown you for dating a fox?”

She shut her eyes tightly, shaking her head, rubbing her eyes and nose with the back of her paws. “No!” she said, her voice breaking slightly, “I'm afraid of how they'll react because I'm afraid that if they don't accept you, if they react badly, it might drive you away from me. I know how it hurts you...I almost lost you once because of the same kind of thing...I can't afford to lose you now.”

He stared at her in silence for a few moments, watching her fight back sobs. Finally, he unbuckled his seat belt, reaching out to her and drawing her into his embrace. She laid her head on his shoulder, slipping her arms around his neck. “Listen, Carrots,” he said quietly, soothing her with tender strokes of his paw down her bare back, “I don't care if your dad chases me off the farm with a shotgun; _no_ _body_ is going to turn me away from you. I can't afford to lose you either, you silly rabbit; I thought you knew that by now.”

She nodded, squeezing a bit tighter around his neck for a moment. She drew a deep breath and sat back, resuming her seat and looking at him with a warm smile. “Well,” she said with a soft chuckle, “He doesn't have a shotgun, so that's good...although he _might_ still have that fox taser...”

Nick perked a brow at her, his lip curling in disgust.

She laughed, taking hold of his paw and giving a gentle squeeze, “Relax, Nick...I'm probably just being paranoid...I'm sure when they see how sweet and kind and wonderful you are, they'll adore you.”

“Let's hope so, for my sake!” Nick said, buckling up and shifting the car into gear again. He pulled out onto the highway, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. “Speaking of weaponry,” he said after a few moments silence, “You packing yours?”

She shot him a sidelong glance, “What, you worried about Bunnyburrow? Thinking we might get ambushed by rogue lettuce heads?”

He sighed, tapping the steering wheel a few times in consternation. “You didn't know we were going to Bunnyburrow, Carrots...” he said, “Besides, you promised...”

“I didn't say I wasn't packing, Nick,” she said, a demure smile spreading across her lips.

He looked her up and down with a confused expression. “What...right now?” he asked, furrowing his brow.

She nodded, her smile broadening slightly.

He looked her over again, his confusion only growing. “Where…? Your handbag?” he said at length.

“Let me show you,” she said, lifting her footpaw and resting her toes over the lip of the dashboard's arched cowl. Slowly, she reached with both paws and began dragging the hem of her skirt up her thigh, revealing a little more with each passing moment, though she was careful to keep the rest tucked in such a way as to preserve her modesty.

As the fabric went higher, his eyes got wider, until she revealed that she had a black holster strapped to her upper thigh, supported by narrow straps that disappeared beneath the gathered skirt toward her waist. He stared and swallowed hard, “ _Sweet cheese and crackers..._ ” he breathed, his throat feeling rather dry.

The loud buzzing and vibrating of the tire riding over the rumble strips at the edge of the pavement jolted him sharply from his reverie and he jerked the car back to the middle of the lane, his ears flattening straight back as he gritted his teeth.

Judy burst into raucous laughter, smoothing the hem of her dress back down. “Males,” she said with a grin, giving Nick a gentle punch in the arm.


	15. Chapter 15

Nick carved the turn off the main highway onto the quiet country roads of Bunnyburrow, the engine growling as he downshifted to slow his pace.

Judy was languidly sprawled in the seat, her legs stretched out, her arm slung over the door. She sniffed the air with a few twitches of her nose. “Ahhh, it smells so fresh...” she said, “It's been a long time since I've been back here...not since I quit the ZPD for that brief spell.”

“You're always gallivanting with a certain scruffy fox,” Nick said with a grin, stopping at an intersection before turning right, following the directions Judy's dad had given him, “Neglecting your dear family back home. For shame, Carrots, for shame.”

“Don't call my boyfriend scruffy,” she retorted with a smirk, “He's very dapper, actually.”

“Sometimes,” he said, his grin broadening, “When the need arises.”

They cruised along the winding country rounds for a few minutes before rounding a bend and passing a copse of trees. As the trees thinned out, they caught sight of the farm; a sprawling acreage bounded by ramshackle fences, it was dominated by a large curved A-frame farmhouse built into an earthen mound bristling with windows. The house, as well as several outbuildings clustered around it, were painted in soft pastel pink, peach and lavender and decorated with rabbit motifs. A long covered porch spanned the entire front of the house, expanding to a built-in rounded gazebo at one end, complete with a porch swing.

As Nick turned the car onto the long, dusty drive, he and Judy could see a massed gathering of perhaps a hundred rabbits among the well maintained gardens that spread out in front of the house. There were rows of long tables set out, as well as a sprawling double wide buffet. Strung up from tall posts erected for the occasion was a huge banner that read, 'Welcome Nick and Judy!' in bold lettering.

“Wow!” Nick said, lifting his sunglasses for a better look at the throng of bunnies waiting to greet them at the end of the drive, “It looks like half the town showed up for this!”

Judy chuckled, patting Nick's shoulder, “Actually, it's just some of my family.”

“ _Some?!_ ” he said, shooting a wide eyed glance at her.

“We're good at multiplying, remember?”

“Well, let's hope I make a good impression, or I'll have an entire army of older brothers wanting to fox taze me.”

Judy chuckled as Nick pulled the car up near the end of the drive, little ways away from the gathered crowd. A hush fell over them as Nick and Judy exited the car, strolling toward her parents who stood at the front of the group.

Judy bounded up and slung her arms around her parents' necks, hugging them tightly. They returned her hug with broad smiles. Nick hung back a few paces, removing his sunglasses and hanging them from his breast pocket.

“I missed you guys so much!” Judy said, stepping back, but keeping her paws on her parents shoulders. She looked from one to the other, smiling broadly and taking a deep breath. “Mom, Dad, this is my partner, Nick Wilde!” she said, stepping aside and gesturing toward him, “Nick, meet my parents, Stu and Bonnie Hopps.”

Nick strode forward, offering his paw to Stu with a broad, easy smile, “It's an honor, Mister Hopps.”

Stu, though he looked uneasy, took Nick's paw and shook it firmly. He smiled and nodded, “Officer Wilde, Bonnie and I heard what you did for our Judy...we want you to know we're forever grateful. Thank you...thank you so much.”

“Please, just call me Nick,” he said, turning to shake Bonnie's paw, “And any other cop would have done the same...it was just what I had to do.”

Just then, an elderly rabbit dressed in a brown cardigan, a mustard coloured shirt and khaki trousers marched up to them, walking with a cane. He regarded Nick from behind a pair of wide framed glasses, his form faintly trembling with age. His jutting chin shifted as he ran his tongue over his teeth, as if musing over what to say. “So you're Trudy's fella. Hmm! Military mammal, eh?” he said, “Staff Sergeant Retired, Otto Hopps, at your service, sir!” He slowly adopted the position of attention and delivered a shaky salute.

Nick glanced at Judy, unsure exactly what to make of the elderly rabbit's peculiar greeting. Judy leaned close and whispered, “That's my grandpa...he served in the Great War...I think he's mistaking your green suit for an army uniform – probably best to just go with it.”

“Ahh...yes!” Nick stammered, thinking quickly, “Major Nicholas Wilde. At ease, soldier! Nice to meet you.” Nick returned Otto's salute, adopting as much of a military bearing as he could on the spur of the moment.

Otto seemed pleased with that, giving a sharp nod and resuming his normal hunched stance. Bonnie gently guided him over toward some of the younger rabbits who were coming up to help him, “Okay, Pop-pop, it's almost lunch time! You go ahead and sit down.”

Judy chuckled quietly, giving Nick a gentle nudge with her elbow, “Grandpa can be pretty biased against foxes, but I guess if he thinks you're a soldier, you get a free pass.”

“I'll take what I can get,” Nick said with a smirk.

"Oh!" said Stu, smacking his fist into his other paw, "There's someone else I want you to meet...now where did he get off to..." Stu stood on his tiptoes, glancing around rapidly, his nose twitching as he sniffed the air. After a moment, his eyes fell on the mammal he'd been looking for. "Hey, Gideon!" he called, waving his paw, "Come on over and introduce yourself."

Nick followed Stu's gaze to find a group of foxes approaching among the gathered throng of bunnies. The male wore blue jeans and a dark green western cut dress shirt. His belt was wide and had a huge buckle with a crossed carrot motif molded in bass relief on the surface. He was somewhat shorter than Nick with a portly build and a slightly scruffy chin that contrasted with the neatly combed, center parted shock of longer headfur between his ears.

The female walking paw in paw with him was a young, slender vixen with a silken tawny coat, brilliant blue eyes, and somewhat long, black tipped ears. She wore a red plaid shirt similar to the one Judy sometimes wore, matched with a set of loose fitting linen capri pants. A contented smile spread over her muzzle as her gaze shifted from the male with her to the small female kit who skipped along ahead of them.

The little kit, not older than four or five, Nick figured, was dressed in a cute sleeveless gingham dress with a white collar and tied at the waist with a broad white sash knotted into a bow. She giggled as she darted ahead of her parents, but stopped short as she caught sight of Nick and Judy. She bowed her head shyly, reaching for her mother's paw. Gideon and the vixen at his side took the kit's paws and led her a bit closer.

“Oh my _word_ , Gideon Gray!” Judy said, bringing her paws to her mouth in shock, “Is this your wife and daughter?”

A broad, easy smile spread over the fox's muzzle as he nodded, slipping his free paw into his pocket. “Yes indeed,” he said, “This is my wife Jenny, and this little muffin is our Ashley. Darlin', this here's daddy's friend Judy and her friend Mister Wilde; go ahead and say hello.”

Ashley tucked herself a bit more behind her mother's leg, staring wide eyed at Nick.

Sensing she was intimidated by his height, Nick crouched down. Judy moved in beside him, kneeling down and extending her paw. “Hey there, Ashley,” she said in a gentle tone, “Nice to meet you. Mister Wilde is pretty tall huh?”

Ashley nodded, stepping out from behind her mother slightly, “He's taller than my daddy, even!”

Judy grinned and gave a wink, “Don't worry, he's nicer than he looks at first.”

“Hey!” Nick said to Judy with a gentle chuckle, “I look perfectly nice at first.”

Ashley giggled, taking a few steps forward. “My daddy makes the best pies,” she said matter-of-factly, “You should have some. We put some on the table! Do you want some?”

“Sure, sweetheart! I can't wait,” Judy said, smiling warmly at the adorable kit.

“Okay! You're nice. I decided,” Ashley said with a nod, then turned to Gideon, “Daddy, can I go play with Mister Hopps's kids?”

Gideon chuckled. “Sure darlin',” he said, “You just come find us when it's time for lunch, okay? We'll save ya a spot.”

“Bye mommy, bye daddy!” she said, darting off with a giggle and joining a group of bunnies about her age who were chasing around together.

Judy and Nick stood up, and Judy looked like she was about to swoon. “Oh my goodness, Gideon, she's adorable!” she said, clasping her paw to her heart, “Why didn't you tell me you were married with a kit? When did all this happen?”

Gideon let out a hearty chuckle, a crooked smile coming over his face as he shrugged at her, “Well, we been married 'bout five years. Ashley is four, be five at the end of summer. If ya'll had stuck around longer than five minutes last time, I'm sure it'd have come up.” He turned to Nick, extending his paw. “Pleasure to meet you, Officer Wilde,” he said as Nick took his paw and shook it, “It's an honor, really. Foxes all over these parts talk about you...just about as much as all the rabbits talk of Miss Judy.”

“You give us all hope,” Jenny said in a gentle voice that was faintly ragged around the edges, reaching out to shake his paw, “If a fox can become a police officer, then the times really are changing for us.”

“Nick is fine,” he said, shaking her paw, “And really, Judy deserves the credit...if it wasn't for her, I'd be nowhere.”

Judy blushed and smiled at that, glancing at him briefly before she exchanged a paw shake with Jenny as well.

“Welp, bout time for some grub, I'd say!” Gideon said with a grin, “Whatcha think, Stu? I'm rarin' to get at some of that salmon Bonnie whipped up!”

“Sounds about right, Gideon,” Stu said, then cupped his paws to his mouth. “COOOOME AND GIT IIIIIIIIIT!” he bellowed. The teeming crowd of bunnies froze, and there was a strange kind of orderly stampede as the mass of mammals all scrambled to take their seats at the rows of long tables.

Stu and Bonnie led Nick and Judy to a place at the head table. No sooner had they settled into their chairs than a small crowd of young bunnies began surrounding them. There was excited whispering and chattering among the group as they all stared wide eyed at Nick. A couple of the bolder ones began touching his tail as it swished languidly back and forth behind his chair. He shot a nervous look at Judy, who merely chuckled and smiled a broad, bemused smile back at him.

Stu noticed the little ones milling about and shooed them away, “Ohh, now come on, you rascals! You don't need to swarm Mister Wilde the moment he gets here. You'll all get your chance to meet him.”

“Seems you're already quite the celebrity on the farm, Nick,” Judy said, passing the bread plate down the line after taking a roll.

Stu shook his head, “I honestly don't know what it is with my kids...all bonkers over foxes...”

Judy's ears turned a darker shade of pink while Bonnie suppressed a chuckle and Nick scratched awkwardly at the back of his head.

Lunch consisted of a huge barbequed salmon with lemon herb glaze for the predators, and a carrot broccoli casserole for the prey, along with Caesar salad and fresh baked bread rolls. The meal passed in lighthearted conversation, with Nick struggling to remember the names of the dozens of siblings he met. Judy and Nick took turns regaling the crowd within earshot with tales of their days on patrol, eliciting numerous gasps and nods of approval, particularly from Judy's younger brothers.

When the meal was finished, Nick took his plate and stood up to clear it away, but Bonnie stopped him. “Not to worry, Nick,” she said with a smile, “We've already got some of the little buns lined up to clear it all away. You two just make yourselves at home.”

Nick smiled warmly, setting the plate back down. “Well, in that case, I'd best unload the bags from the car,” he said, tucking his chair back into its place, “I've got a couple of cases of beer for the fridge too.”

“The kitchen is the first thing you'll see on your right when you go in the front door,” Stu said.

“I'll help you unload!” Judy said, jumping up from her chair and falling in step beside Nick. They immediately started into cheerful banter, as if it was as natural as breathing.

Stu furrowed his brow and shot a concerned look at Bonnie.

“I think Nick is very charming, don't you, Stu?” she said with a demure smile, choosing to side step the true issue that was nagging at Stu's mind, at least for the moment.

“Hmmm...he uh...yeah, he's very...articulate,” Stu said, nodding, although the consternation didn't vanish from his face.

“Do you remember the talk you had with Max back when he and Jeannie were dating?” Bonnie asked, handing off her plate to one of her children who came to clear it, “—Thank you sweetie.”

“Huh? What's that got to do with anything?” Stu said, tearing his gaze away from Nick and Judy, whom he had been watching with a growing sense of unease.

“Oh nothing, dear,” she said with a smile, “Just thinking you might be having _the talk_ again sometime soon.”

Stu's eyes went wide and he stared at his wife, swallowing hard.

Once Nick had stocked the 'fridge,' which turned out to actually be a refrigerated room lined with shelving and sealed with a heavy steel door, Judy met him in the kitchen, having dropped off her bags in her room. She took his paw and led him out to the guest cottage.

Situated in a large grassy field behind the main house, the guest cottage was a much smaller building, but designed with the same bunny motifs and painted in the same lighthearted pastels as the farmhouse. To the left of the front door was a small kitchenette with a table and four chairs, there was a bathroom down a short, closet lined hallway straight ahead, and a spacious combination bedroom and living room to the right. There was also a loft above, accessed by a spiral staircase, which had another bedroom with a balcony to the side of the house.

The ground level living room had a broad, cushy looking bed against the back wall with fluffy pillows and a thick, soft comforter. On the wall to the right of the bed stood a stone fireplace, and next to that a small TV stand with an old fashioned tube TV. The floors in the living area were finished with somewhat dated, but extremely plush carpeting with a repeating carrot pattern.

Nick set down his suitcase in the kitchen area, looking around the place with an appreciative smile. “Nice digs, Carrots!” he said, turning to Judy, “This is the guest house? I feel like I'm living like a king!”

Judy giggled, smirking at him, “Laying it on thick, aren't you? My folks aren't around for you to schmooze at the moment...”

“Carrots, I live in a _boiler room_...” he said with a grin, “It's all a matter of perspective.”

“Hmmm, that it is...” she said, taking his paw in hers, “So, if you aren't busy for the rest of the afternoon, I was hoping to give you the grand tour of Bunnyburrow.”

“Sounds perfect,” he said, following her out the door and onto the well worn path that led through the grass toward the main house, “Shall we take the car, then?”

She shook her head, “Naw, we're going to be taking some back roads. We'll take one of the trucks.”

“Yeehaw,” Nick said with a grin, which elicited another melodious chuckle from Judy.

Within minutes, they clambered up side by side onto the worn bench seat of one of the farm pickups. Nick fastened his seat belt, then ran his fingertips over the faded dashboard, his face taking on a wistful expression. “Brings back memories, huh, Carrots?” he said.

“Yeah,” she said, watching his paw for a moment before firing up the rumbling diesel engine, “Back then, I thought I'd never see a stranger, more dangerous case in my career...boy was I wrong.” Her brow furrowed as she pulled out onto the gravel drive, heading toward the road that bordered the farm.

“The _important thing was_ , we came through it together...like we always have,” he said, noticing the darkening of her expression as her mind no doubt began wandering to the murky and terrifying events that had lately engulfed them. “Like we always will,” he added, watching with delight as his affirmation erased the anxious frown from her lovely features, “But enough shop talk; we're here to relax. Commence the tour, Carrots!”

She chuckled in response and rolled down her window, slinging her elbow over the door. They rumbled along in the old diesel truck for a ways before Judy pointed out the window at a sprawling, somewhat modern looking building on the left. “That was my elementary school, Woodlands,” she said, “When I was in fifth grade, this kid – Bobby Catmull – treed himself one day and I managed to coax him down with a laser pointer just as the police arrived; one of the officers gave me a pat on the back and congratulated me for quick thinking. I was instantly fascinated...that was probably the beginning of my desire to become a cop.”

Nick listened intently as Judy continued to point out the various local landmarks. They rolled on further, passing through the tightly packed rows of shops that marked the two traffic light 'downtown' area of Bunnyburrow, then on past the huge farmer's co-op, taking a turn just outside of town and heading toward the hills.

“So, what did you do for fun as a kid?” Nick asked, his head leaned partly out the window, the fresh breeze blowing through his fur and between his ears.

“I'm about to take you to one of our favourite spots,” she said, “The old swimming hole!”

They turned from the asphalt onto a gravel road that further on gave way to a two wheel dirt track that disappeared into the woods. They rumbled through the dappled light of the forest for some twenty minutes before finally emerging into a large clearing by the side of a wide, deep, slow flowing part of a river, its banks overhung with willow trees and shrubs. Where the clearing met the river, there was a narrow bank of soft sand that sank beneath the languid flow of crystal clear water.

Judy pulled up the truck ten feet or so from the bank and shut off the engine, jumping out and taking a deep breath. “Just like I remember...gosh it's been years since I've been here,” she said with a smile.

Nick jumped out of the cab on the other side, removing his jacket and tossing it on the seat before closing the door, revealing his shoulder holster rig. He strolled up beside Judy, his paws tucked into his trouser pockets. She noticed his gun and gave a faint chuckle, “I wonder what my dad would say if he knew we were both packing heat at lunch today.”

He responded with a relaxed shrug of his shoulders, his eyes fixed on the dappled light shimmering on the rippled surface of the river. “I'm sure it would have raised more than a few eyebrows in that crowd,” he said, turning his gaze to her, “I get the feeling you don't tell your family much about our work.”

She looked up at him with a sheepish grin. “No sense in worrying them...they're nervous enough about my job as it is,” she said, releasing a gentle sigh, “Do you tell _your_ mom everything?”

“Pretty much,” Nick replied, slipping his arm around her and gently guiding her to a grassy, shaded spot where a fallen birch log made a perfect natural bench, “She's a strong lady. She can handle it.”

“That she is,” Judy said, sitting down and leaning her head against his shoulder. She crossed her ankles over each other and rested her paws in her lap.

They sat in silence for a while, Nick's arm still wrapped around her shoulders as they watched the river meander by. “You don't ever wish you could talk to them about it? Talk out things that bother you, you know...” he said, his tail swishing back and forth in a slow, measured rhythm.

“I don't need to,” she said, turning her head to gaze up at him, “I have you.”

“That you do,” he said with a subtle smile.

“Hey!” she said suddenly, her ears perking upright, “This is some of the freshest water you're ever going to taste. You should try some!”

He perked a brow at her, regarding her with a bemused smirk, “Drink from the river? Isn't that a little primitive? I mean, you sure I'm not going to get dysentery or something?”

She punched him in the arm, “Ewww, gross, Nick! Come on, you think I'd tell you to drink it if it wasn't totally safe? We drank from the creek all the time as kids.”

He chuckled softly at her, planting his paws on his knees and pushing himself up to a stand. “All right, when in Rome...” he said, strolling over to the edge of the creek. He knelt in the soft grass for a moment, looking down at his reflection in the swirling, clear water. At length he rested his paws at the water's edge, bowing to bring his lips to the water's surface. Much to his surprise, the water tasted amazingly pure and cold.

As he crouched over the water, Judy quietly sidled up behind him with a devilish grin and delivered a firm hip check to his rump. His face plunged into the water up to his ears.

He reared back, laughing and sputtering, “You little punk!” he said between gasps of laughter, “I should have known!” He cupped his paws together and scooped water from the creek, throwing it at her.

She let out a yelp and jumped back, bursting into raucous laughter herself. Lunging, he caught her up in his arms. “You're going in!” he said with a broad grin, “No escape for you this time, Carrots!”

“Noooo!” she howled, giggling furiously and squirming as he slowly stalked closer to the water.

Nick swung her back dramatically, faking that he was going to toss her half way across the river, but at the last moment he caught her again and drew her against his chest with a wry grin.

“Saved me again, Mister Wilde...” she said with a giggle, her paws coming to rest on his shoulders.

“Hmmmm...maybe not,” he said, nuzzling her firmly with his sopping wet face, rubbing his soggy fur all over her head.

“Auugh, Niiick!” she protested through another fit of laughter. Finally she managed to wriggle free of his arms, dropping onto her footpaws and bounding away a few paces. They stood dripping and laughing at each other for a few moments.

“At least it's sunny today, so we'll dry off,” he said at last, setting his paws on his hips and looking up through the gently shifting forest canopy to the clear azure sky beyond.

“Come on,” Judy said, “I want to show you my special spot...where I used to go to be by myself.” She turned and headed off down a trail leading along the river's edge.

Nick jogged up beside her, slipping his paws into his pockets as he matched her pace. His tail swished back and forth with an easy rhythm, his muzzle curled into a broad, contented smile that refused to subside. “I guess it must have been tough to find time to yourself with all those siblings, huh?” he said.

“Yeah, definitely,” she said, “Especially in a little town like this. Everybody knows you, so all they have to do, usually, is ask around and they'll find you. That's why I loved this spot...it was out of the way, but...well, you'll see.”

They wound their way along the trail until it broke from the forest's edge into a rolling meadow. The river parted ways from the trail, following the edge of the woodland into the distance to their right. The path stretched out ahead of them through gently billowing waves of wild grass, toward a tall hill that swelled up from the lowlands around it. The smooth, rounded hilltop was crowned with an enormous maple tree whose gnarled branches spread across nearly the whole expanse of it.

Cresting the hill, Nick panted a few times and dumped himself in the dappled shade at the base of the old sugar maple, leaning his back against the trunk and looking up at the leaves above him dancing in the gentle afternoon breeze. He huffed a sigh and loosened the knot on his tie, unfastening his collar button.

Moments later, Judy came strolling up over the hill, not seeming the least bit out of breath, and plunked herself beside him. She crossed her legs, leaning her back against the tree as Nick had, her head inclined enough to let her observe him.

As she watched, Nick's eyes slipped closed, his legs stretched out before him and his paws resting in the grass on either side of his hips. The wind played through the ruddy strands of his fur and teased the outer edges of his ear membranes. After a long, silent pause, she saw his eyes slowly open to take in the idyllic scene spread out before them.

“I'm really glad we came to Bunnyburrow, Carrots...” he said at last, “This place...it's so...so _you_.”

Judy perked a brow incredulously at him, “Are you kidding? I'm the misfit bunny who wanted to be a big city cop, remember?”

Nick shook his head, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon, “No, I mean, there's this simple, beautiful innocence about this place...a sort of purity.”

She furrowed her brow, wondering what he was driving at, but she thought better of saying anything for the moment and continued to merely listen.

“I come from a murky, complicated world covered in grit and stains...where nothing is simple or innocent,” he said, a pained, reminiscent expression on his face, his voice low and tinged with sorrow, “Maybe that's why it took me so long to take the next step with you...I don't feel worthy of someone so beautiful.”

Her breath caught in her throat, but she swallowed and slid her paw over his, moving closer to rest her shoulder against him. “Nick, that's nonsense...you're a wonderful guy. _You're more than worthy,_ ” she said in gentle tones, giving his paw a reassuring squeeze.

He sighed, casting a sidelong glance at her for a moment, “You don't know everything about me, Judy,” he said, looking down at the grass between his footpaws, “I've done worse things than hustle pawpsicles on street corners... _much worse_.”

She scooted over, kneeling beside him and cupping his cheek with her paw. “Nick, look at me,” she said, drawing his gaze into hers, “I'm not concerned about the mammal you _used to be_...because I know the mammal you _are_. Whatever murky stuff you're talking about in your past, it's over and done. If someday you feel like you want to tell me about it, then I'm all ears, but until then I won't waste one second worrying about it – I've got better things to do with my time, such as...”

With a wry grin, she hopped into his lap, pressing her back into his chest and pulling his arms around her middle. With a deep, contented sigh, she draped her ears back over his shoulders, letting her eyes slip closed as the fragrant breeze washed over them both, rustling the leaves in the tree above.

“You are right about one thing, though,” she said softly, a yawn interjecting itself into her sentence, “It is beautiful here, especially in springtime...”

A shock of pleasure shot through him as she wrapped herself in him like a blanket. There was a long, comfortable interlude whose silence was broken only by the rustle of the leaves and the whispering wind. His paws resting on her belly, he could feel the gentle rise and fall of her breaths, which gradually became deep, easy and regular. He felt all tension drain from her body, her weight sinking into him.

“Carrots…?” he said quietly. When there was no response but deep, measured breaths, he said it again louder, but still she was silent. She had fallen fast asleep in his arms.

He smirked to himself, letting his nose gently fall to the spot between her ears. To his surprise and delight, he found himself thickly enveloped by the alluring sweetness of her scent, her fur caressing his nosepad with each breath. It was almost dizzying, sending a thrill through his entire body that he had never experienced before. Letting his eyes slip closed, he resolved to lose himself in the simple pleasures of that moment, letting the wind, the sun, the grass, and the magnificent presence of Judy Hopps drown and wash away the nagging doubts and fears that plagued his mind.

Within minutes, his breaths had taken on the same slow, steady rhythm as hers, and together they slept as the afternoon meandered on its way.

The sun was low in the sky by the time they awakened, flooding the hilltop in golden sunlight and stretching the maple's shadow nearly to the edge of the wood line they had come from, as if laying out a road for them to follow back to the truck. They walked the path paw in paw all the way back.

“Any good places to eat in town?” Nick asked when Judy started up the engine, “I'm buying.”

“Charlie's Surf and Turf,” she said, “It's a great little greasy spoon that has a fantastic menu – something for everyone.”

“Perfect!” he said with a grin.

“Just make sure you put your jacket back on,” she said with a smirk, “The dress code doesn't include nine millimeters.”

“Duly noted,” he replied with a nod.

At dinner, they fell into talk of childhood and its simple pleasures. With a little coaxing, Judy got him to talk of his father, the times they shared, and his favourite memories. If ever he seemed about to stray too close to the painful events of his youth, she would artfully divert him, such that he found himself speaking easily of moments in his life he had never shared with anyone else, things he had long shut away in the vaults of memory. Somehow, her presence, her smile, her gentle encouragement expunged the pain that tinged those memories, at least for the moment, leaving only the happiness. It was nearly closing time before they realized they were the only patrons left in the restaurant, and had been for at least an hour.

Nick rose from his seat, leaving several bills on table to cover the cheque and a generous tip, and offered Judy his paw. “Best I get you home before that rust bucket parked out front turns back into a pumpkin,” he said with a wry grin.

“Or before my dad goes looking for his fox tazer,” Judy retorted, taking his paw and strolling toward the door with him.

The moon was high overhead and the night air was filled with the chirping melody of crickets by the time they reached the front door of the guest cottage. Nick stepped across the threshold, but turned back to her, his paws resting against the door frame. He regarded her for a moment with the same contented, admiring smile that he'd worn all afternoon. “Thank you for today, Carrots...I had a great time,” he said, his voice hushed.

She smiled back, her ears folded behind her, “It was your idea to come here, remember? I should be thanking you.”

He shook his head. “Today was all you...” he said.

She hesitated a moment, as if unsure what to say. Finally, she stepped forward and cupped his cheek with her paw, drawing him into a tender kiss. Her lips lingered for a moment, then drew back as she let her paw fall back to her side. “My pleasure, Nick,” she said with a warm smile, “Sleep well, and I'll see you in the morning.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and started back down the dirt path to the farmhouse, knowing that if she hadn't, she would have been sorely tempted to go straight through that door into his arms. Her heart was pounding in her chest; she didn't dare turn around, yet somehow she was certain his eyes remained on her all the way down the path, until finally she heard the quiet thunk of the door shutting just as she passed out of sight.

She slipped through the side door and bounded through the sitting room, feeling as light as air as she headed toward the stairs that led to the upstairs bedrooms. Her parents were sitting there together, and she waved good night to them without stopping to address her father's anxious gaze or his mother's all too knowing smile, striding up the stairs and out of sight before they had a chance to say a word.

Inside her room, she flopped onto her bed among her throng of stuffed toys with a deep, wistful sigh, a wide grin spread across her muzzle. She stared at the ceiling, trying to calm the beating of her heart, when suddenly a dim flash of light from her desk caught her eye. Her phone was sitting there where she'd left it just before they headed out for the afternoon; she had a text message waiting.

She rolled over and stood up, moving to the desk and picking up the phone. She deftly entered the unlock code and hit the text message icon.

Her heart sank at what she saw. The message was from Agatha Swinton. It read:

No trace of H in glass. Video shows nothing.


	16. Chapter 16

Nick was awakened somewhat early the next morning by a knock at his door. He quickly donned a pair of gray chinos and threw on a black silk shirt with a red floral pattern; he was still busily buttoning it up when he opened the front door to find Judy standing there.

She was dressed in denim shorts with rolled hems and a pink collared blouse with three quarter length sleeves. She smiled faintly up at him, her paws clasped behind her back. “Morning, Nick,” she said, “I hope I didn't wake you...”

He shook his head, fastening his last button. “Oh no, I've been awake for a while,” he said, bending the truth more than a little, “What's up?”

“Dad asked me to check some of the crops in the back forty,” she said; her ears were folded down and her manner more subdued than usual, “I thought I'd see if you might like to take a walk with me instead of us just taking the truck.”

“Sure!” he said with a grin, “The crop wouldn't happen to be blueberries would it?” He exited the cottage, shutting the door behind him as he fell in step beside her.

She shook her head, “Naw, just some field cucumbers. Dad was worried the ground was too wet over where he planted them.” She glanced up at him as she walked, then without another word, slipped her paw into his, much to his delight.

They walked in silence for a long while, passing low rows of early corn, carrots and other vegetables. As the silence grew longer, Nick became more concerned, until finally he was certain something was wrong. “Carrots, are you okay?” he asked gently, watching her with a discerning gaze as they walked paw in paw, “You don't seem like yourself today.”

She slowed her pace, then stopped, not relinquishing her grip on his paw. “I'm okay, but there is something that's been on my mind,” she said, “I was awake half the night thinking about it.”

He furrowed his brow at her, “What is it? You know you can tell me.”

She took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on the horizon. She released his paw and took a few steps forward, turning to face him, though she averted her eyes to the ground. She reached her right arm across her body, clutching her elbow. “I...I wasn't even sure I should say anything to you. In the end I decided you needed to know,” she began, raising her eyes to meet his gaze, “I got a text from Agatha Swinton at the crime lab.”

“Oh? What did she find out?” Nick said, smiling; he was pleased to think there was another break in the case.

“There was no trace of Harbinger on the glass and the video showed nothing to suggest anyone slipped anything into your drinks,” Judy said, a grave look on her face.

“ _What…_ _?_ ” Nick asked, knitting his brow in confusion, “How is that possible...I don't understand…?” Suddenly, the true implication of what she was telling him crashed over his mind like a tidal wave, and he was seized with a nauseating kind of horror. His mind began to race ahead, picturing the look of rage and betrayal on her face, the tearful recriminations, the furious break up, even her arresting him and turning him in to the ZPD. He stared at her, feeling like he was staring at an oncoming freight train, tied to the tracks and helpless to prevent his own destruction. “Carrots...” he breathed, “I...” No more words came.

“At first, I thought I wouldn't tell you,” she said, looking at the ground, “But then I realized that after the scene I made in Bogo's office, he'd probably try to take me down too, for covering for you. I decided you needed to know before we went back there.”

Nick's heart sank into the pit of his guts, his mind reeling as he felt his entire world unraveling around him. His head spun and he felt like vomiting. Staring at her, his arms hanging limp at his side, he thought of screaming his denial at her, begging her to listen, even getting on his knees and swearing to her on his life that he was innocent, but everything he imagined made him sound guilty, no matter how innocent he really was.

“If that happens...I want you to know, I'll fight tooth and claw to defend you,” she continued, meeting his gaze once more, “If they try to fire you, I'll tell them I'm quitting too. I'll go to jail with you if that's what it takes.”

Nick blinked in astonishment, shaking his head, “Sorry, _what?_...what did you say?”

“You didn't deliberately take Harbinger, Nick,” she said, a faint smile curling her lips, “I _know_ in my heart you didn't. I don't know how, but somehow, somebody got it into your system without you knowing.”

His lips parted; he intended to speak, but only a choked utterance escaped.

“All your life, everyone's assumed you were guilty until proven innocent,” she said, clenching her fists and staring resolutely into his eyes, “ _Well, not me, Nick_...not this time. The truth is you're innocent, and even if it costs me my career, _I_ _will stand by you_.”

She sighed and flashed a grin at him, turning to continue on their way, “Sorry about bringing all this heavy stuff up...I didn't want it to interfere with our vacation...I just decided you had to be prepared.”

“ _Judy..._ ” he breathed. He felt tears stinging the corners of his eyes, his heart heaving in his chest. No one had _ever_ showed such unshakable faith in him before. She wasn't up all night deciding if he was guilty; she already _knew_ he was innocent. She was debating if she should even speak to him about it for fear of hurting him and ruining their trip. She didn't care what the evidence did or didn't say, because to her, his character was all the evidence she needed.

“Hmmm?” she said, pausing and half turning to him, “You okay, Nick? You don't have to come check the veg with me if you're too tired, it's no big deal.”

“N...no, no I'm fine,” he said, smiling broadly and wiping his eyes with the back of his paw, “Just allergies acting up, I guess.” He cleared his throat and grinned at her, striding over to resume his place by her side, “Thanks for giving me the heads up, Carrots, but you're right, let's forget it and just enjoy ourselves. Now, tell me all about these cucumbers of yours...what do we look for to make sure they're still good?”

“Oh well, we just have to inspect the ground, make sure it's not too mucky, and then check them over for blight and root rot, make sure the leaves aren't infested with bugs, you know, that kind of thing,” she said, counting out the tasks on her fingers as she strolled along beside him.

He nodded sagely in reply, although her agri-speak was only barely comprehensible to him. As he strolled along beside her, his paws clasped behind his back, her voice alone, no matter what she might have been saying, was music to his ears.

Having checked the cucumbers and found them quite satisfactory, Nick asked Judy to show him around and teach him a little something about the other vegetables, which she happily obliged. Upon finishing that, they had a light lunch for two in the kitchen, followed by a tour of the farmhouse. Judy recited various interesting tidbits of the Hopps family history as they strolled through the halls, checking out portraits and nicknacks on their way.

Having come from a relatively small family, Nick found it all strange and fascinating. Not to mention it meant spending a couple of hours in very close proximity to Judy, and enveloped by her scent. During the course of their tour of the farmhouse, they happened upon a dusty copy of 'Gullifur's Travels' and discovered that they both had loved it as children.

“Nick, I have an awesome idea!” she said, clasping the book eagerly in her paws, grinning broadly at him.

“ _What is it!_?” he asked, imitating her extreme enthusiasm.

She whacked him on the arm with the book, sending out a cloud of dust from its covers that made him sneeze, “You and I should totally curl up in the hammock in the yard and you can read to me!”

“ _Oh my gosh, lets go_ — _okay, okay,_ don't hit me again, that thing is heavy!” he said with a chuckle, having begun again with his mockery, only to be cowed when she brandished the huge tome.

The hammock, strung between two stout beeches located about half way between the farmhouse and the guest house, was just the right size to accommodate them. Nick lounged back into it in a semi-reclined position, one footpaw propped up into the netting, the other dangling just low enough to permit him to sway the hammock back and forth with gentle pushes of his toes. Judy nestled herself against his chest, letting him prop the book on her thighs as he read, enveloping her in his soothing baritone.

Together, they wiled away the afternoon, swaying and reading in the breeze and the mellowed spring sunlight that filtered through the leaves of the towering beeches. At last, the serenity of it all lulled them to sleep.

The sun had dipped much lower toward the horizon by the time Nick was awakened by the poke of a sharp stick to his ribs. He started awake to find himself surrounded by a crowd of dozens of Judy's younger siblings, mostly between the ages of four and nine.

“Y...yes?” Nick said, blinking and rubbing his eyes.

“Daddy said you'd play with us!” one of the taller boys said, a soccer ball clutched under his arm, his poking stick clasped in the other paw, “On account of because momma's making dinner!”

Judy rolled onto her side on Nick's chest, gazing with a bemused smirk at the little horde of bunnies surrounding them, then casting her eyes toward the farmhouse to see her father standing in the kitchen doorway with a perturbed, anxious look on his face. “I think dad sicced the little ones on you, Nick,” she said with a grin and a soft nuzzle against his chest.

“Heh...sure, kiddo,” Nick said, “As long as that's okay with your sister.”

“Fine by me, Mister Wilde,” Judy said with a wry smirk, dropping off the hammock onto the grass, “I'll go see if I can help my mom fix dinner.”

Nick gave her the book to take back with her, sitting upright in the middle of the hammock with his footpaws in the grass. He smiled warmly at her, “Okay, but if you don't hear from me in half an hour, send a rescue party.”

The sound of children laughing and shouting, mixed with Nick's deeper tones, followed Judy into the house, remaining faintly even when she had shut the door. She found her mother working in the kitchen and pulled a stool over to the counter nearby. Setting the book aside, she gave her mom a tight hug around the neck. “Any thing I can do?” she asked, looking over the relatively small number of pots bubbling on the industrial sized stove.

“Oh no, sweetheart, you get comfy,” Bonnie said, stirring one of the pots, “A bunch of the older kids are out for the evening at a concert down in town, so it's only the two of you, dad and me, and the young buns tonight.”

“That'll be nice for a change,” Judy said with a grin, “I think sometimes Nick gets a bit overwhelmed with all my siblings swarming around. He is an only child after all.”

Bonnie smiled and leaned over, looking out the french doors to the side yard, where Nick was chasing around with the young ones in an informal game of soccer. “Oh, I don't know, he seems to be holding his own quite nicely,” Bonnie said with a smile.

Judy glanced out the window to see that the soccer game had rapidly degenerated into Nick being chased around the field by a swarm of giggling children who were intent on catching his tail. He was laughing and trying desperately to escape, though several bunnies were already hanging off his arms and legs. “I'm glad Nick's having a good time,” Judy said, watching the hijinks with a wistful smile, “I was a little bit worried about dad, to be honest...Gideon Gray is one thing, but Nick and I work so closely together, we're such good friends and all...”

“Well, your dad is very grateful to Nick for what he did. I am too. We're both glad you two are safe and sound here in Bunnyburrow after all the craziness you've been through lately...” Bonnie said, “Most of which you probably haven't told me.”

“Not going to try to convince me to quit the police and take up carrot farming, are you?” Judy said, giving her mother a mildly suspicious look.

Bonnie chuckled in response, stirring the pots on the stove, “Oh sweetheart, I realize that being a police officer is your calling in life. Nothing wrong with having a nice, safe, quiet vacation now and then, though, is there?”

“I guess not...” Judy said, her attention focused on Nick as she spoke with her mother. He was rapidly disappearing beneath a giggling, squirming swarm of bunnies at that moment, as they had managed to tackle him to the grass. “I'm a little worried about what dad thinks of Nick, still,” Judy added, not taking her eyes off him.

“Well, from what you've told me and what I've seen,” Bonnie said, setting aside her wooden spoon and pulling up a stool beside Judy, “Nick is a good, kind, honest animal, and obviously he cares very much for you. You know your father has a good heart, and you know how much he adores you. He'll come around to liking Nick, even if it's a little tougher this time around than it was with Gideon.”

“Yeah,” Judy said, turning to Bonnie with a smile, “You're right, dad is a good bunny. I guess that's why you married him, huh?”

“One of the reasons,” Bonnie replied with a smile.

“What else?” Judy asked.

“You mean how did I know he was 'The One'?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, the trite answer is, 'you just know' but I'm thinking you want a little more depth than that, so...let me see...” Bonnie began with a smile, leaning back against the counter's edge and wrapping her paws around her knee, “Well aside from his being devilishly handsome, there were all kinds of traits about him that drew me in, like how thoughtful and kind he was to me, how he always made me laugh, often without meaning to, how he was respectful to everyone, but more importantly, I saw that we shared the same core values. Deep down, our hearts were going in the same direction.”

Judy nodded, listening intently to every word.

“Maybe the biggest thing,” Bonnie said with a nod, stroking her chin thoughtfully as she spoke, “Was that I realized he cared more for my good than for his own life. My happiness, my growth as a mammal, my well being, were all more important to him than anything, and he would have sacrificed anything for me. See, a lot of mammals these days think marriage is a fifty/fifty arrangement...you each do your share and meet in the middle. The truth is, it's one hundred/one hundred – you each have to give everything you've got to the other, even when you don't feel like it, and sometimes even more than what you thought you had to give. I knew your dad would do that for me, and I wanted to do it for him, so when he proposed, I said yes. I know it may not sound all that romantic...”

“No, no it actually does...” Judy said, a thoughtful caste coming over her eyes, “Someone who makes you deeply happy, who wants to give all of himself to you every day forever...that's about as romantic as it gets, I think.”

“Glad to hear you think so, sweetheart,” Bonnie said. A frown of concern came over her face as she glanced out the windows to the side yard again. Nick was fully engulfed in a seething pile of giggling bunnies, only his arm and paw stuck out of the mass of fur, waving in the air like he was drowning in an ocean of cuteness. “Dinner is just about ready, so I think you should go save your partner from your siblings...” she said with a smirk.

Judy laughed, rising and heading to the door. All it took was a yell of “Dinner!” and the little ones all swarmed into the house, leaving Nick laying sprawled on the grass, panting and chuckling to himself.

Judy strolled up to him, bowing and extending her paw to help him up.

He grinned at her and took her paw, “You came to save me just in time, Carrots! Everything was going dark!” She helped him stand, not relinquishing his paw as they turned to walk together to the house.

“Always got your back, you know that,” she said with a grin.

“This is true,” he said with a warm smile.

Dinner for Nick was rich clam chowder, while cream of broccoli soup was on the menu for the rest of them, with garlic bread on the side. He relished every bite, having a second helping before the meal was done. After dinner, they retired to the living room for an hour or so of quiet conversation. Sensing their chances were about to be dashed by their impending bed time, the youngsters began surrounding Nick again and clamouring at him to play with them.

“All right, enough you rascals!” Stu said, trying to sound stern, “It's time all of you little buns were in bed!”

“ _AWWWWWWW!_ ” came the collective lament.

“Now, now!” Nick said with a wry smile, raising his paws for silence. The bouncy horde of adorable bunnies slowed and became still, all eyes fixed on him. “How about if I read you your bedtime story?” he asked with a knowing peak of his brow.

A collective cheer went up, but Nick raised a warning index finger, “Ah! But you must listen to your daddy and get your teeth brushed and jammies on, okay?”

They all nodded frantically and scampered off to get ready. Nick glanced at Judy, looking very smug and self-satisfied. She merely rolled her eyes at him.

“Just don't let them see fear in your eyes, Nick,” she said.

Within half an hour, all the young bunnies were tucked into their rows of triple bunk beds in a room that Nick found strangely reminiscent of the barracks at the academy. He was just finishing the last page of their bedtime story.

“...so he settled down close by and whispered with a smile, 'I love you right up to the moon...and back,'” Nick read, closing the book and lifting his eyes in hopes of seeing a room full of sleeping bunnies. Instead what he saw was dozens of little eyes peeping over the covers, staring expectantly at him.

He furrowed his brow, casting a glance at Judy. She had been sitting nearby on a rocking chair by the door, slowly swaying as he read. She regarded him with a bemused smirk and mouthed the words _No fear._

Nick frowned in response, glancing back toward the expectant children. Mid way down the room, one of them slowly raised a paw and sat up in bed. “Mommy always sings us a lullaby...” she said, and the others all nodded in silent agreement.

A choked utterance escaped Nick's throat as he tried to form words, but he coughed to cover it up and regained his composure; he was committed now, and there was no turning back. _No fear_.

He set the book aside on the dresser near his stool and clapped his paws over his knees, slowly rising to a stand. With the mein of an operatic virtuoso, he surveyed the expectantly smiling faces peering back at him from the semi-darkness. “All right,” he said at length, “I think I might know an old song I can adapt for this occasion, but all heads need to be on pillows before I start.”

The room full of bunnies responded obediently, plopping their heads onto their pillows and tugging the covers up under their chins.

Slipping his paws into his pockets, he leaned his shoulder against the nearest bunk and closed his eyes for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. Judy watched him expectantly; she had stopped rocking and had moved further to the edge of her chair.

With a slow, swaying melody, his measured baritone sounding clearly through the long room, Nick began to sing:

_My bunny lies over the ocean,_

_My bunny lies over the sea,_

_My bunny lies over the ocean;_

_Oh bring back my bunny to me…_

Keeping his eyes closed, as though he were drawing the sweet melody from somewhere deep within himself, he continued. Judy's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening slightly and her ears perking and fixing on him, though he was oblivious to her acute attention.

_Last night as I lay on my pillow,_

_Last night as I lay on my bed,_

_Last night as I lay on my pillow,_

_I dreamed that my bunny had fled..._

Judy listened, enraptured, as his deep, clear voice enveloped her in the dim light. She never would have imagined he could sing so beautifully. His song continued, meandering in silken melody until finally, as the last note died away, he reached out to her and she slipped her paw into his. He guided her out of the room, shutting the door gingerly with his other paw as they exited.

Nick cast a furtive glance behind him, making sure they had escaped unscathed and that all the little bunnies were still sleeping. Satisfied that all was well, he huffed a sigh and grinned, wiping his brow, “Whew! That was pretty terrifying there...I don't know how you guys manage so many little kidlets at once.”

Judy chuckled, sliding up beside Nick and giving a gentle poke to his ribs with her elbow. “Oh, I'd say you handled it pretty well, Officer...” she said, then lowered her voice, glancing away, and added “Your singing is beautiful...”

Nick scratched his head, feeling a flush rising in his cheeks. He turned to the fridge, opening it and grabbing a couple of _Fox's Fiddle Ale_ bottles from the case closest to the door, holding one out to Judy. “Come have a pint with me, Carrots,” he said.

She took hold of the bottle, but he kept a grip on the neck and led her outside with a wry grin. Together they settled into the porch swing, the rays of the setting sun creating a warm glow around them. Judy was grinning from ear to ear, looking a bit bouncier than usual. Suddenly her face fell. “Oh! We forgot the bottle opener...” she said, turning to Nick.

Nick flashed her a sly, bemused smirk and fished a dollar bill from his pocket. Judy tilted her head quizzically, her nose twitching in anticipation. As she watched, he folded it in half lengthwise, then rolled it tightly and folded it again. He stuck the bent edge under the cap of the bottle, then deftly popped it off, trading it to Judy for the unopened ale and performing the same procedure again.

“Nice!” Judy said, her grin returning. They clinked the bottle necks together and leaned back against the swing, both downing a swig of the rich, frothy, full bodied ale. Nick started them swaying gently with a push of his footpaw, his arm languidly draping across the top of the swing behind Judy's neck.

The scene didn't have to play out for long before Stu and Bonnie both noticed it and began to fully comprehend its import, the former with some trepidation, the latter with a warm smile and a faint blush. She glanced at Stu and nodded in the direction of the porch. “Looks like I was right...you're going to be having 'the talk' tonight after all, huh Stu?”

Stu looked like he was about to get hit by a truck, his eyes wide as saucers and his nose twitching rapidly for a few moments. At length he composed himself and nodded, a look of determination coming over his face. “You sure we're on the same page with this?” he asked, his voice hushed to ensure Nick and Judy didn't hear.

Bonnie shrugged and smiled warmly at her husband, her paws folded in front of her, “What else can we do, Stu? She's our little girl.”

He nodded, his jaw set, and went about clearing up the dishes and sweeping the kitchen.

His opportunity came about a half hour later when he noticed Judy stretching her arms high above her head, the empty bottle in her paw. She turned to Nick and said a few inaudible words, to which he replied with a nod and the loving smile he nearly always wore when he looked at her. Oh yeah, it was time for the talk all right.

Judy came in and hugged him warmly, “I'm going to head up and do some reading, dad. I'll probably fall asleep, so see you in the morning!”

Stu wrapped her tight in his arms, holding her just a beat longer than usual, “Night, sweety!”

Nick was still gently swaying, his eyes focused on the horizon, when Stu came out. Nick had his footpaws tucked under the swing, his elbows on his knees and the mostly empty bottle dangling from his fingertips. He seemed lost in thought as Stu came closer.

“Mind if I sit down?” Stu asked.

Nick blinked and turned to him with a look of surprise, “Oh! Sure, Mr. H, have a seat.”

Nick resumed his study of the sunset while Stu hopped up on the bench seat. The swaying slowly died away, and an awkward silence grew up between them for a few moments. At last Stu cleared his throat.

“There's something I've got to ask you, Nick...” he said, folding his paws in his lap and staring at the sunset as well, just able to see Nick in his peripheral vision.

“Go ahead, sir,” Nick's voice was flat, his expression blank. He took another swig, polishing off the last of the ale, and resumed his former posture.

“Well, Nick, as Judy's father, I have to ask you...what are your intentions toward my daughter?” he said. It sounded a bit stilted and formal, but some part of him felt like it was his duty, however out of fashion it might be.

Nick turned and regarded him for a moment, his expression the picture of neutrality tinged with irritation. “Would we really be having this conversation if you didn't already know the answer to that question?” he said, turning back to the sunset again.

He certainly did have a way with words, that was certain. Stu continued, “Well, ah, it's just that Bonnie and I want to be sure that you two have thought about everything that means...you know there's going to be a lot of folks'll be awful mad about you two being together, might even be some that'll go too far and try to hurt Judy, or you, because of it.”

“That's why I carry a gun,” Nick said flatly.

Stu swallowed, pausing a moment as he considered his words. “There's also the question of kids...you know that we bunnies love children, and Judy's no different...I don't know that she's gonna want such a big brood as we've got, but I can't see her going without kids forever. I'm not even sure it's possible for you two, but if it turns out to be, well them kids are going to have an even rougher go than you. We just want to be sure you've thought of all of this...sometimes love can blind a fella to what's in front of his nose.”

Nick stood up suddenly, his gaze doggedly fixed on the horizon. “You've made yourself perfectly clear,” he said tersely, and stepped off the porch in the direction of the guest house without so much as a glance back.

Stu jumped to his feet, his fists clenched. “Now just a doggone minute, young fella!” he said, his voice surprisingly fierce, “You're courtin' my daughter and sleepin' under my roof and you're _sure as shootin'_ not walkin' away from me till I've said all I gotta say!”

Nick stopped mid stride, his empty bottle hanging by his side, but he didn't turn around.

“ _What I was gonna say,_ ” Stu continued, lowering his voice and taking a breath to calm himself, “Is that you're a fine fella with a good heart...the kind of fella that Bonnie and I would be _real_ _proud_ to call our son-in-law. More important, any fool can see that you're crazy for our Judy, and you always treat her just the way you should. Hell, you risked your life for her, Nick; how could we hope for anything better? We want you to know, if you guys decide to take that next step...well, we're behind you every step of the way, no matter what.”

Nick cocked his head, pausing a moment before turning around. He regarded Stu in silence for a moment. “Thanks, Mr. H,” he said at last.

-~x0x~-

A few hours later, restless and unable to sleep, Judy had decided to take Nick a treat. She hummed to herself as she strode along the path leading to the guest cottage, a kettle full of steeped chamomile tea swinging from her right paw and a small basket of cookies from the left. Somehow she managed to reach the door without spilling a drop, and finding it open and her paws both occupied, let herself in. She called out as she entered. “Niiiick,” she said, setting the kettle and basket on the kitchenette table near the door, “You awake, or did the little buns sap all your remaining strength?”

Hearing no reply, she furrowed her brow, stepping a little further inside. “Nick…?” she called again, glancing around; the living room was empty, so she headed further in. Suddenly catching sight of Nick, she saw why he hadn't answered; he was slumped in the doorway of the bathroom, his paw to his mouth, the other gripping the door frame so tightly his claws had gouged the wood. His face was twisted in agony and she could see trickles of blood seeping between his fingers.

“ _NICK!_ ” she screamed, bounding down the hall to his side. She knelt and put her paw on his shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze, “Oh geeze, Nick, are you okay?! Speak to me!”

He nodded emphatically, though it took him a few moments to form words. “F..fine...” he said, wiping away the blood from his lips, “The...docs said this would probably happen if I overdid it...just some blood clots and muscle spasms...nothing...to worry about.” He blinked a few times; there were tears in the corners of his eyes and she could see he was fighting back excruciating pain.

“Can you stand?” she said softly. He nodded and she slipped herself under his arm, bracing him over her shoulders. Her powerful legs managed his weight and she led him around the corner into the bedroom.

As they entered, she felt him take his weight off of her and move to the edge of the bed under his own power. She breathed a silent sigh of relief as he sat down and smiled at her, though he winced and rubbed his left shoulder. “Thanks, Carrots...” he said, “Always around when I need you most...”

“Is there anything I can do…?” she asked, clasping her paws in front of her, her nose twitching more than she would have liked. He looked so tired.

“Yeah, you know what? There is,” he said with a smirk and an air of resignation in his voice. “For starters,” he said, easing himself off the bed into a cross legged sit on the floor just in front of it, “You can pour me a cup of that tea you brought—it smells fantastic, by the way—and then you can give me a neck massage.”

She perked up immediately and a broad smile curled her lips, “Sure thing, Nick.”

The span of a few minutes found her sitting on the bed behind him, her paws kneading firmly at the twisted knot of muscle that passed for his neck. He held the saucer in one paw and the teacup in the other, his pinky stuck out in mock daintiness each time he took a sip. She chuckled when she noticed it. “Goofball...” she said absently, working her way slowly down his neck.

Before long, her efforts elicited a quiet moan of appreciation, his eyes slipping closed as he set aside his tea, his paws coming to rest in his lap. “You're pretty good at this, Carrots...” he said, his head lolling forward.

She moved down further, finding his traps were even worse, especially the left; it was like squeezing steel cable. She moved her paws lower, finding it all bad, though his shirt collar was preventing any further advancement.

Without a word, she leaned forward and unbuttoned the first three buttons of his shirt. As she did, her cheek came close to his, and she could feel his fur standing up slightly, his whiskers twitching and his breaths coming just a little faster, though he said nothing. His scent was strong with her nose so close to his neck; it was pleasant, comforting, and alluring all at once. It sent a little thrill through her that made her neck fur stand up.

“I need to get at your shoulder, the whole thing is a mess...” she said, gently sliding his shirt down his arms and exposing his back to the bottom of his shoulder blades. She smiled appreciatively to herself as she noticed how toned his muscles had become after almost a year on the job. Suddenly she stopped, drawing a sharp breath; she had spotted the gnarled little scar where the bullet exited his back.

He turned his head toward her slightly, his right ear swinging around, though he still said nothing, waiting to hear what she might say.

“Does...does it hurt to touch it?” she asked, her voice a reverent whisper.

He shook his head, still silent as his ear remained fixed on her.

She reached out to him again, her fingertips tracing around, and then over the scar. She let her finger rest on it for a moment, feeling a strange, but deep connection to him, as well as a sudden, overwhelming sense of guilt intermingled with gratitude. “Oh, Nick...I'm so sorry...you went through all this suffering because of me...” she said, tears beginning to sting her eyes.

“Don't be, Carrots...I'd do it all again in a heartbeat,” he said, turning his face forward again, both ears swinging to the front, “As long as it means you're safe.”

She slid her paws up over the tops of his shoulders again, resuming the massage, kneading at the top of his traps with firm, steady squeezes. Suddenly, he reached up and cupped his right paw over her left, holding it against his shoulder. _Had she hurt him…?_

“Can I tell you something, Carrots…?” he said at length, his paw still cupped tenderly over hers, his voice low and steady.

“Sure, Nick, anything...” she replied, her ears perking and fixing on him.

He turned around to face her, never relinquishing her paw. His eyes met hers, and he smiled more sweetly than she believed he was capable of. “Do you remember that night in the sky tram, after I told you what happened when I was a kid? I told you I had a rule: never let anyone see they got to you.”

She nodded, finding herself fixated by his emerald gaze, nearly breathless wondering what he might be about to say. “I'll never forget that night as long as I live...” she said, a faint smile curling her lips.

“Well, I'm about to break that rule...not to mention a few others...because you got to me. Right here, and right here,” he said, tapping his forehead, then his chest, right beside the scar left by the bullet that nearly pierced his heart.

“ _I love you, Judy_...I love you like I've never loved anyone in my life. My brain keeps throwing all these objections in my way; we're different species, we come from different backgrounds, society might not accept us, _whatever_ ….but I just don't give a _damn_ about _any of it_ , because I'm so crazy in love with you that I can't bear the thought of living through another day without you in it.”

Her eyes widened as she drew back slightly, her nose giving a few frantic, intermittent twitches. Nick's emerald eyes searched hers, his expression tender and expectant. She read in those eyes that he was bearing his whole soul; it was the unalloyed truth. Her lips parted and she tried to form words, but only silence came.

It only took two seconds for her to abandon that plan; instead, she pressed her parted lips to his, their fingers entwining as her other arm found its way around to the back of his head. She gripped his fur and gave him his reply by deepening their kiss, her blunt muzzle locked with his.

She felt his other arm slip around her back, pulling her into his lap and holding her close against the silky fur of his chest. At length they drew back, but their lips pressed together needfully a few more times in teasing, searching caresses before they were willing to be parted long enough for speech. Judy gazed into his eyes, feeling strangely as if it was the first time, and caressed his cheek with her paw, her fingertips tracing slowly along the line of his jaw, “I love you too, Nicholas Wilde...more than you could imagine.”

A broad, toothy grin spread across his face and he flopped onto his back, taking her with him. She let out a yelp of surprise, but quickly took to nuzzling under his chin, working her way down his throat with tender nibbles. Her fingers spread out through the thick, soft fur of his chest, the other paw deftly unfastening the last few buttons of his shirt.

His paws stroked her ears, caressing their way down her back, his claw tips teasing her flesh through her shirt, finding their way down her shapely thighs and cupping around them, pulling her tight against his body. When her paw clasped his belt buckle, however, she was surprised to find him taking hold of it, stopping her.

She looked at him questioningly, a flood of insecurity and fear rising in her mind; he quieted her racing thoughts with another deep, passionate kiss before holding her close as he whispered to her. “Not yet, Carrots...” he said, though his voice trembled with desire, “You deserve much better...and I have plans for that.”

She let out a needful sigh, keeping her paw where it was and nuzzling, nibbling, kissing his throat; the intensity of her desire for him surprised even her as her lips and tongue wandered upward, finding her way to his lips again and feeling the same fire from him as their muzzles joined once more. She drew back, though her lips hovered close to his as she spoke, gazing deeply into his eyes. “Don't you want me…?” she breathed, her heart pounding in her chest, her body faintly quivering as she lay atop him.

He cupped her cheek with his free paw, nuzzling her softly, bringing his lips close to her ear before he spoke. “More than you know...more than I've ever wanted anyone,” he said, his voice a needful, breathy whisper, “But I've screwed up a lot of things in my life, Judy...I can't afford to screw this up. With you, I have to do it right; just stay here and let me hold you tonight...that's enough for now.”

She immediately understood the implications of what he said, and the thought was breathtaking to her, but she ignored the pounding of her heart and tried to calm herself. This was enough for now, he was right. She nuzzled firmly into his bare chest, a huge grin on her face, her arms snugly around his middle, “Just try and get rid of me...” she said with a faint chuckle.

“Actually,” he said with a grin, sitting up, then scooping her into his arms and rising to his footpaws, “I was thinking that in the interest of full disclosure, I would give you a little sneak preview of those plans I mentioned...”

Without waiting for an answer, he knelt on the bed, crawling up a bit and laying her tenderly on the plush comforter. She lay with her arms resting above her head, gazing up at him with expectant amethyst eyes. Her breaths were coming faster, her nose twitching at intervals. Reverently, he cupped her cheek in his paw and caressed her ear with the other, then starting at the top, began slowly kissing and nibbling his way down the inside of it.

She gasped in pleasure, feeling a thrill run through her entire form as a huff of his warm breath wafted into her ear. He continued, his paw slipping down over her shoulder, the fingers tracing their way up her bare arm until they entwined with hers.

His lips, meanwhile, kissed their way lovingly along her jaw, briefly made a visit to her own, then continued with great relish and tenderness, not to mention several gentle nibbles along the way, down her throat. At last, his teasing, affectionate explorations found their way to the notch at the base of her collarbones, where he kissed, nibbled, then planted his nose and breathed deeply of her scent. When at last he drew back, still straddling her trembling form, and smiled at her with adoration glowing in his eyes, she was quite speechless for several seconds.

“ _W...wow!_ ” she said at last, managing to get her trembling and rapid breaths under control, “I am intrigued and would like to subscribe to your newsletter...”

Nick let out a hearty laugh, a deliciously earnest and joyful sound that she thought she'd like to hear a lot more of. “Beautiful,” he said, pausing to gaze lovingly at her for a while longer.

Finally, he pressed his nose briefly to hers and flopped down beside her, lifting his arm in invitation. She needed no further prompting; she snuggled in close to his body, her head resting on his chest, his arm wrapped comfortingly around her. She closed her eyes and listened to the steady rhythmic bass of his heartbeat, his rich, alluring scent filling her nostrils. Her paw stroked its way slowly down his chest until it met his own, which he had laid across his stomach. Their fingers entwined and she released a sigh of pure contentment.

A long, very comfortable silence intervened before he spoke again in hushed tones, “Why did it have to take me this long to find you, Carrots?”

She nuzzled up closer, considering the unspoken meaning behind his words for a few seconds before answering, “I think...because this was our time. If we had met earlier...some other time and place...maybe we wouldn't have been able to connect the way we did.”

He was silent, apparently mulling over her words. After a few moments, he snuggled her a little closer. “Mmm...wise bunny,” he said, his eyelids dropping closed.

“Nick…?”

“Mmm?”

“Will you do something for me?”

He opened one eye and glanced down at her, “What's that, Carrots?”

She closed her eyes, a broad smile spreading across her muzzle, “Sing to me?”

Her head bobbed gently as he chuckled at her request. A few deep breaths, and his velvet tones began reverberating against her cheek, filling her head with beautiful melody. She drifted, wrapped in his arms and awash in the beauty of his voice, until at last she was lost to sleep.

_Oh blow ye winds over the ocean, oh blow ye winds over the sea, oh blow ye winds over the ocean and bring back my bunny to me…_


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events of this chapter were planned in April 2016, shortly after chapter 1 was posted on FF.net.

It began as a magnificent and tender awakening. The gentle morning sunlight danced on her eyelids, her awareness slowly filling with the comforting scent of a handsome fox, her head cradled by the gentle rise and fall of his steady breaths. Then in an instant, it was horribly shattered by her parents barging into the room, shouting frantically and nearly incoherent.

“Judy, Nick! Oh my gosh, you guys, _it's terrible!_ You won't believe—” Stu said, speaking about twice as fast as normal.

“It's just awful, _just awful!_ ” Bonnie blurted out, cutting him off.

Judy's eyes shot open and she scrambled up the bed, which only served to wedge her more firmly into Nick's embrace, his arm now neatly wrapped around her. She glanced at him with terror on her face, her nose rapidly twitching, which only intensified the smug, self-satisfied smile he wore as he regarded her through half-lidded eyes.

“Oh my gosh, you guys, _this isn't what it looks like!_ ” Judy said, feeling intense hotness rising in her cheeks and ears.

Stu stopped his ranting and looked at her quizzically, “Uh, well, you both have your clothes on— _mostly_ ,” he began, nodding at Nick, who shrugged nonchalantly in reply, “And you're on top of the covers, so it _looks_ like you guys made out and fell asleep cuddling...so if it's _not that_...” Stu's eyes rapidly grew larger as his brain started going places he had zero interest in going.

“No, no, no! Wait, _wait!_ ” Judy exclaimed, waving her paws to derail his train of thought as fast as possible. “No, this is _exactly_ what it looks like, yes... _just exactly what you said._ ” She nodded a few times, staring at her parents with wide eyes as she found herself briefly doing a mental double check to be sure that was actually true.

Stu's eyes darted between them a few times and there was a lull before he said, “So…you two didn't...uhhh... _you know_...”

Judy felt like her head was on fire. “NO!” she shouted, “Nope, no, you were right the first time.”

A warm smile came over Bonnie and she turned to Nick, raising a paw to her muzzle. “Oh, Nick, so _honorable_ of you, my goodness...” she said with obvious admiration in her voice.

“Thank you, Mrs. H,” Nick said with a nod and the most roguish, bemused smile Judy had ever seen on his smug face.

Stu flailed his arms above his head, trying to focus on the reason for their intrusion, “Forget about all that for a second, you guys have to see this!” he said, dashing to the TV and pressing the power button.

When Bonnie turned around as well, Nick took the opportunity to give Judy's rump a firm, playful squeeze, which elicited furious but strangled squeaking and a flurry of paw smacks to his arm.

The TV displayed a commercial for Kodiak Donuttery. Stu looked nervously at Bonnie, then at Nick and Judy, “Bon and I saw this on the morning news, and we were just...we knew we had to tell you.”

The commercial ended and they saw that the channel was ZNN. Peter Moosebridge sat behind his desk with a haunted look in his eyes, beside a bleak faced Katerina Leopold, who looked like she was on the verge of tears. Nick immediately furrowed his brow, casting a worried look at Judy, who appeared just as worried.

“For those of you just joining us...there has been a horrific tragedy in the streets of Zootopia today. Five members of the ZPD have been ambushed and killed, their names withheld until their families can be notified,” Moosebridge began, his tone sombre, “It appears that an unknown group staged a false bank robbery in order to lure in responding officers, then ambushed them from pre-positioned vehicles at the scene. An off duty officer who attempted to assist his comrades was also killed. ZNN has obtained exclusive traffic cam footage of the incident, which we will show you in a moment.” There was a brief pause, during which Moosebridge and his co-anchor glanced at each other, before he added, “We strongly caution you, what you are about to see is extremely graphic and disturbing, and if you have any small children in the room, we recommend you remove them.”

“Oh, Nick... _no_...” Judy breathed, clutching at his shoulder, her other paw shooting to her muzzle. He responded by holding her tighter, his eyes wide and riveted to the screen.

The scene changed as they rolled the footage. The soundless traffic cam video showed the intersection in front of the Slothoman Brothers Bank. After a few seconds, two black and white police cruisers rolled up and came to a sudden halt, their lights flashing, and two officers jumped out of each one, drawing their guns and training them on the front door of the bank. The first car contained a doe and a male polar bear whom Nick and Judy recognized as Irene Fleetwood and her partner Andrew Chillton. The other two officers were a cheetah and a bighorn ram – Swift and Ramsay.

“Dan! Oh no _...no, no, no!_ ” Nick said, a catch in his throat as he watched his friend exchanging silent words with his partner. It was like watching a nightmare unfold right in front of his waking eyes. He already knew the outcome, yet he was powerless to tear his eyes away from the screen.

Ramsay and Swift signaled to Fleetwood and Chillton, then moments later, broke cover, moving across the intersection toward the bank. Suddenly, the doors of three vehicles – black SUV's parked strategically around the intersection, burst open and several mammals rushed out with AS-47 assault rifles – one of them was Jack Hargrieve, dressed in a white suit, black shirt, red tie and black overcoat. Emerging from the passenger door of the same vehicle was Seth Grimm, a cruel grin spread over his pointed muzzle.

A gasp of sickly horror escaped Judy's throat as they unleashed a hail of withering automatic fire on the unsuspecting officers. Chillton was hit with dozens of rounds before he could even return fire. He toppled backward as he fired wildly with one paw, his white fur already splashed with crimson, before slamming into the cruiser and falling in a motionless, bloody heap beside the rear wheel. Fleetwood crouched behind the engine block, firing rapidly and striking one of the shooters in the shoulder before her head snapped back with a puff of pink mist and she crumpled. She lay dead, a pool of blood rapidly seeping from beneath her head.

Tears streamed down Judy's face as she watched the grisly, silent carnage unfolding. She clutched Nick tightly; he was trembling, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps.

Swift was struck multiple times almost immediately, the rifle rounds punching through his soft body armour like it was paper. He stumbled backward a few steps, returning fire with both paws clutching his pistol until another round ripped through the side of his neck. Falling onto his rump, he pressed his paw against the gushing wound as he continued to fire at the attackers with one paw.

Despite absorbing multiple hits himself, Ramsay dashed to his partner and grabbed the shoulder strap of his body armour, dragging him at an agonizingly slow pace toward the cruiser. He fired rapidly at Jack with the other hoof, his mouth gaping in a silent scream of fury.

Jack, his rifle apparently empty, tossed it into the back seat of the black SUV beside him and drew his revolver from a shoulder holster under his coat, taking aim at Ramsay.

Six gigantic fireballs erupted from the muzzle of the revolver, and six red splashes burst from Ramsay's back. His gun slide locked, he stumbled and fell back against the cruiser's door, sliding down into a sit and leaving a streak of blood down the black and white Z painted on the door. Jack swung out the cylinder from his gun, dumping the empty casings on the ground and reloading six more from a speedloader.

Suddenly, one of the shooters at the edge of the frame, a dark brown mink, lurched forward, blood and bone exploding from his face as he took a bullet to the back of the head. A musk ox they didn't recognize, dressed in civilian clothes, stepped into the frame, shooting another thug, a black ram, in the side before turning his gun on Jack.

With shocking speed, Jack snapped the cylinder shut and brought the gun to bear on the musk ox, firing three rounds in rapid succession that slammed into the off duty officer's chest. He slumped to his knees, then toppled onto his face in a growing pool of blood, his gun falling from his hoof.

A diabolical grin spread across Jack's face, his form quivering in a fit of silent, manic laughter. He slowly strode over to Ramsay, who sat drenched in blood, both his own and that of his dead partner, and feebly struggled to reload his gun. His teeth were clenched in grim determination, even as he missed the mag well of his service pistol again and again, his coordination all but gone as his life drained away onto the pavement.

Jack paused, his revolver hanging from his paw as he stared with a cruel, mirthless grin at his dying victim. His lips moved; he was saying something Ramsay.

“ _NO!_ _NO, DAMN IT!_ ” Judy yelled at the screen, her voice a wrenching sob.

“ _No,_ _d_ _on't...don't look, sweetheart..._ ” Nick said, clutching her against his chest, gently turning her face away from the blood drenched nightmare unfolding on the screen. She felt his tears dropping on top of her head, his heart pounding in her ears as he held her tightly. Though she couldn't see or hear the shot, she felt it the instant Laughing Jack murdered Dan Ramsay; a violent shudder tore through Nick's form and a choked, tortured sob escaped his throat.

“ _You bastard...YOU FUCKING BASTARD!_ ” he screamed.

Judy wrapped her arms around his neck and held him, her paw clenched in the fur at the back of his head; all she could do was hold him and share in his rage and grief.

The scene changed back to Moosebridge and Leopold. The latter was covering her face with both paws and sobbing quietly, the former staring with a look of unadulterated horror on his features. At length he reached out and laid a hoof over his co-anchor's shoulder. “This...this is one of the darkest days in the history of Zootopia...” he began, his voice subdued and faltering, “Our hearts and our prayers are with the families of the murdered officers and their comrades at the ZPD.”

Stu shut off the TV. Bonnie turned and buried her face into her husband's chest, trembling and sobbing at what she'd just witnessed. He held her tight, gently rubbing her back.

Nicks breaths were ragged and shallow, tears streaking down his cheeks as he stared at the black screen with haunted eyes. He clutched Judy closer against his chest, bowing his head to press his cheek against hers. She was his only refuge in the sea of horror where he found himself adrift; he fought to focus only on her, trying to forget the gruesome image of his friend's death that was seared into his mind's eye.

“Come on into the house,” Stu said at length, casting a stricken gaze at Nick and Judy, “I think we could all use a stiff drink...”

-~x0x~-

The sumptuous aroma of fresh baked fruit pies flooded the shop as Gideon moved out from behind the front counter to unlock the door and turned on the 'open' sign in the front window. His thoughts lingered on the gathering at the Hopps' family farm. He had long been haunted by guilt over his treatment of Judy, and although his apology to her ten months prior had gone a long way toward assuaging that guilt, he had still been nagged by the worry that he'd soured her on foxes for life. He certainly wouldn't have blamed her if she was, after what he did. It brought a smile to his face when he thought about his encounter with her and Nick, especially given Jenny's comment to him on the way home: “Oh they're smitten with each other, no doubt.” To think that the bunny he had so cruelly bullied as a child would end up courting a fox gave him a chuckle.

He had just resumed his place behind the counter, initializing the register, when the bell above the door jingled, announcing the arrival of the first customers of the day. Gideon looked up to see a tall, slender hyena dressed in a white three piece suit, black shirt and deep crimson tie step through the door. He had a black overcoat draped over his shoulders like a cape, the sleeves hanging empty. His fur was ashy gray with black spots and he had a wild, bristling, black mane beginning from his forehead, running between his ears and disappearing into his collar. His eyes were bloody crimson, with an intense, discerning intelligence lurking behind them. A long, straight scar slashed from the jawbone on the right of his face up to his cheek just below his right eye. When he spotted Gideon, a broad, somewhat unnatural grin slowly spread across his lips, revealing rows of pearly white, deadly sharp teeth.

He was accompanied by a golden jackal dressed in a black hoodie and white track pants with a double black stripe down the side. The jackal's eyes were green-gray and bore a cold, unfeeling gaze. His lips were drawn into a grim scowl as his gaze drifted around the shop. When they fell on Gideon, they froze, staring with an intensity that made his blood run cold.

“Morning, gentlemammals!” Gideon said, putting on his biggest, brightest smile and friendliest manner, in hopes of dispelling the chill he felt running up his spine, “Welcome to Gideon Gray's Real Good Baked Stuff, home of the Hopps Blueberry Pie! What can I git fer you fine fellas this morning?”

The hyena kept on grinning in his unsettling way, his head tilting slightly as he spoke, his bloody eyes riveted on Gideon. “You must be the eponymous Gideon Gray,” he said, his tone suave and cultured, “I noticed by the sign on your lovely little establishment that you are an associate of the Hopps family, is that right?”

“Y..yes sir, that's right,” he said, the fur on the back of his neck rising and a sense of unease growing within him the longer he spoke to the hyena, “I've known their daughter Judy since we were little kids. All our produce comes from their farm.”

Suddenly, the door to the kitchen banged open and Ashley bounded out clad in her apron and gingham dress. She grabbed Gideon's pant leg and gave a tug, grinning up at him. “Ready to bake, daddy?” she asked, bubbling with excitement. She suddenly noticed the visitors and grinned broadly, dashing out from behind the counter to greet them. “Welcome to daddy's shop!” she said, stopping in front of the jackal with her paws clasped behind her back, “Are you going to buy some pies? We have the best pies! You should try one for sure.”

The jackal squatted down with his forearms on his knees, casting a brief glance at Gideon and flashing a chilling grin. “What a sweet little muffin you are,” he said, “Want to see a trick?”

She gave an excited nod, clasping her paws in front of her with anticipation.

The jackal slid his paw into his hoodie pocket and to Gideon's horror, pulled out a folded butterfly knife. He proceeded to flick and spin it open with shocking speed and dexterity, the metal handles snapping and clicking together until finally he held the knife, blade out, pointed toward Ashley.

Oblivious to the threat, Ashley giggled with delight, clapping her paws a few times before reaching toward the blade. “Oooh, flashy!” she said, “Do it again!”

“Ah, ah!” said the Jackal, pulling back the knife before she touched it. A cruel grin spread over his muzzle as he shot a deadly stare at Gideon, “Musn't touch, sweetheart, you could get cut... _real bad._ ”

“I would be _so grateful_ ,” said the hyena, his psychotic grin spreading even wider as he spoke with smarmy false courtesy, “If you would accompany me to pay a visit on your dear childhood friend.”

“Ashley, honey,” Gideon said, forcing a smile and struggling to keep the terror from seeping into his voice, “You run along and tell mama that daddy's got to run out and do some quick deliveries. I won't be long.”

Ashley, still innocently oblivious to the deadly threat hanging over them, beamed at Gideon and nodded. “Okay, daddy!” she said, scooting back through the door into the kitchen.

“Excellent choice, Mr. Gray!” said the hyena, punctuating his statement with a sudden, high pitched giggle, “Your fatherly concern is _so touching_.”

“P...please...don't kill me...” he said, his voice beginning to crack, “Don't do that to my wife and baby girl...”

“That will all depend on how cooperative your friends Nick and Judy are,” the hyena replied coldly, stepping aside and gesturing toward the door, “Come along quietly, please...the car is waiting.”

-~x0x~-

Dark amber liquid swirled in the bottom of the glass as Stu poured the last drink, then capped the bottle and set it back into the cabinet. He pressed his paws on the counter top, staring down at the glass for a moment before looking over to Nick.

Nick sat staring into his drink, his head clasped in one paw, the other hanging limp at his side. Judy took her place on the stool next to his, slipping one paw into his and the other around her bourbon. Her touch seemed to jolt him from his dark reverie, and he squeezed her paw in response, raising his head and wrapping his fingers around the glass. He raised his eyes to gaze around at the others, then lifted his glass. “To fallen comrades,” he said, his voice subdued.

They clinked their glasses together, Nick and Judy tapping them on the counter before downing the fiery liquor in one shot. Nick set down his glass, rubbing at the back of his neck, his other paw still entwined with Judy's. “What're we gonna do, Carrots?” he asked, looking over at her.

“We have to go back,” she said, looking back at him, her nose twitching faintly, “ZPD will need us to help catch the bastards.”

“Frankly, Carrots, I'd rather shoot them dead like the rabid beasts they are,” Nick said, a bitter sneer curling his lips.

She reached up and laid her paw over his shoulder, shaking her head, “Sorry, Nick, it's been illegal to shoot rabid animals on sight since the mid nineteenth century...and even then it was the literal kind of rabid, not the figurative kind.”

He managed a faint smile at that, releasing her paw and slipping his arm around her waist. “You're right, we—”

Suddenly, the kitchen door burst open and Peter, one of the eleven year olds, bounded in. “Poppa! There's some black trucks coming down the road toward the farm. More visitors from the city?” he said with an excited grin.

Nick's eyes went wide and he cast a panicked look at Judy. She looked just as concerned. They both dashed to the door. Far in the distance, off the far corner of the front acreage, they could just make out the dust trails of three black SUV's approaching down the same road Judy and Nick had driven two days prior.

Judy immediately crouched down, wrapping her paws around her brother's shoulders, “Pete, listen; I need you to get all your brothers and sisters out in the fields and bring them to the living room right away, okay? It's _really_ important.”

Peter nodded, looking slightly anxious, though he obviously didn't comprehend the true peril they were in. He turned on his heel and dashed out into the yard, yelling to a group of his siblings gathered nearby.

Judy looked up at Nick, her brow furrowed deeply with worry and confusion. “How could they possibly know where to find us…?” she said.

Nick stared wide eyed, a look of stricken realization on his face. He took a couple of faltering steps backward, his lips parted slightly, before clutching his head in his paws and sinking down on his haunches with a long, low agonized groan. “ _No_...auughhh...why… _why?!_ ” he said, staring at the floor.

“Nick, what is it?!” Judy asked, kneeling beside him with her paw on his shoulder, “What are you talking about…?”

“ _Finnick..._ ” Nick breathed, staring straight ahead as the full weight of the awful realization sank over him.

“ _What?!_ ”

“Think about it, Carrots...” he said, “How did Jack know exactly where your apartment was, and how did he know when to sneak inside and wait for you? I called Finnick the night we went to the pub, and during that conversation I told him where we were going...I even invited him to come along. _He told Jack._ ”

Judy's eyes went wide with shock as Nick continued.

“There was no trace of harbinger on my glass from the Igloo and nothing on the video because I wasn't drugged in the club... _I was drugged in the limo before we went in._ ”

“ _The champagne!_ ” Judy whispered, a look of horror washing over her features.

Nick released a ragged sigh, running his paw down his face and clasping it over top of his muzzle. “And Finnick is the only mammal in all of Zootopia who knew we were coming here, because I told him when we met over coffee the day before we left...” he said, his voice low and ragged.

Judy moved closer to him, wordlessly slipping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly for a moment before she drew back, staring into his eyes. “Nick, listen to me...we have bigger problems right now. _Jack is coming_ ,” she said firmly.

He nodded, blinking a few times and sighing sharply. “Yeah, you're right,” he said with a nod, collecting himself and rising to a stand again. He shot a look at Stu, “Mr. H, have you got _any guns_ anywhere on this farm? _Anything?_ ”

Bonnie's ears suddenly perked up and she raised an index finger, “Oh! Pop-pop still has his old rifle from the war! I think he's got it in his steamer trunk.”

“If he's still got any ammo for it, it's better than nothing,” Nick said.

Just then, Peter returned, leading a train of bunnies all marching toward the living room. Nick motioned him over, crouching down, “Pete, listen, I need you to do me a favour. Go find your grandpa and tell him we need his rifle and any ammo he might have.”

Peter nodded, wide eyed, then turned and dashed off to find Otto.

Nick turned to Stu, “Have you guys got a storm shelter, wine cellar, something like that? Somewhere you can hide the kids?”

Stu nodded, “Sure! There's a big tornado shelter under the house; it's even got supplies, water and everything.”

“Good,” Nick said, “Grab anything you and Mrs. H can use as weapons and get all the kids down there. Barricade yourselves in and don't come out until one of us tells you it's safe.” He turned to Bonnie, “Mrs. H, call the Sheriffs before you go down – just make sure you tell them these are the guys who shot up the ZPD this morning.”

Bonnie and Stu nodded at him, glancing at each other before they dashed off.

Nick turned and gazed out the front kitchen windows; the convoy of black SUV's was just turning down the long gravel driveway.

“What're we gonna do, Nick?” Judy asked, standing by his side and watching the trucks approaching.

“I donno, Carrots…” he said, “Lure them in and fight them in the house and hope we can use the home turf advantage against them? Rush out there and go down in a blaze of glory with our smoking guns in our paws?”

“So far, I like the first option best...” Judy said with a wry smirk.

“Staff Sergeant Otto Hopps reporting for duty, SIR!”

Nick jumped at the sudden interjection. He spun on his heel to find Otto, clad in olive drab field dress complete with neatly formed beret and khaki web gear, his rifle slung over his shoulder. As he looked on in astonishment, Otto whipped his rifle off his shoulder, spinning it around and snapping open the bolt to present the weapon for inspection. It was a long, full stocked rifle typical of the early part of the last century, the rich walnut stock buffed to a dull sheen, the action and exposed metal perfectly lubricated. It was topped with a brass telescope sight and had a wooden cheek piece attached to the comb of the butt, providing the proper eye placement for shooting with the optic.

A wide eyed Peter stood beside his grandfather. Nick looked at him quizzically; he shrugged, then turned and ran off to join his siblings.

Nick and Judy glanced at each other briefly. “ _Your grandpa was a sniper?!_ ” Nick whispered sharply.

Judy shrugged in reply.

Nick mused to himself for a moment, then clearing his throat, he drew himself to his full height, turning to address Otto. “It's good that you came, Staff Sergeant...” he said, clasping his paws behind his back, “I'm afraid the Huns are coming,”

“I _knew_ they would come some day...that's why I've kept old Lili in tip top shape, sir!” Otto lowered the rifle, fishing cartridges from his web pouch and loading it up with five rounds before snapping the bolt closed and activating the safety. He rested the rifle on his shoulder, standing at attention and looking expectantly at Nick.

“Ahem, yes, well, are you sure you can still shoot, Staff Sergeant? I understand it's been some time since you were in active service,” Nick said, casting another nervous glance at Judy. Ordinarily, he wouldn't consider trusting a mildly senile, centenarian bunny to back him up, but at this point, it was any port in the storm.

A wry grin slowly spread its way across Otto's drooping muzzle, causing his chin to jut out even more than usual, “I could shoot the hairs off a gnat's ass at five hundred yards, sir.”

The three black SUV's skidded to a halt in front of the house, cutting short their conversation. Nick, Judy and Otto ducked behind the kitchen island, peering around it to watch what was happening out front.

The vehicles were lined up from left to right, parked several yards apart, their bumpers all pointed toward the front door; an assault formation designed to use the engine blocks to maximize cover for the occupants. As they watched, the passenger door of the center SUV opened and the white suited form of Laughing Jack Hargrieve stepped out, his trademark diabolical grin spread over his muzzle. He stood beside the open door, his paws thrust into his trouser pockets, the black topcoat draped over his shoulders billowing slightly in the morning breeze. On the other side of the car, Seth Grimm stepped out, his paws thrust in the kangaroo pocket of his black hoodie, a grim sneer set on his muzzle as he stared forward. Several wolves and a couple of tigers, all dressed in black suits, also emerged.

Jack's shoulders began to tremble with rising laughter, until finally he threw his head back and unleashed a manic fit of hollow giggling. After a moment, he spread his arms wide. “Would you look at this _place?!”_ he yelled, making sure they could hear him from inside, “It's like the bastard child of a florist and a scrap-booking shop! _Are you kidding me, Nicky!?_ ”

He giggled a few more times, slipping his paws back into his pockets and staring with his bloody crimson gaze toward the front windows of the house. “You know I came such a long way to be here, Nicky...I've been so looking forward to our reunion,” he yelled, hunching slightly and tilting his head in a strangely quizzical posture, “It breaks my heart that you didn't come out to welcome me...and after I went to _such trouble_ to get your attention, this morning...why don't you come on out and we'll have a little heart to heart.”

Judy glanced at Nick, shaking her head and drawing her pistol from the concealed holster on her belt. Nick pulled his gun as well, glancing at Jack.

“Come and get me you gruesome son of a bitch...” he growled low in his throat.

“You always were so stubborn, Nicky,” Jack said, his grin spreading over his lips again, “But that's okay, that's why I brought along a mutual friend...” He raised his paw and snapped his fingers; instantly the passenger side doors of the far left SUV both opened. Two rams stepped out, followed by a burly grizzly bear holding a gun to Gideon Gray's head.

“ _Oh_ _no_ _..._ ” Judy breathed, a panic stricken look on her face, “ _They have Gideon!_ ”

“ _Damn it!_ ” Nick hissed, biting his lip as his mind raced, trying to formulate a new plan.

“You have ten seconds to get your ass out here, Nicky,” Jack snapped, his voice suddenly becoming a guttural snarl, “No guns, and no funny business, or your pal's brains are going to be decorating the driveway.”

“ _Shitshitshit_...okay, listen, Carrots...do you think there's a way you can get to their left flank unseen?” Nick asked, his eyes fixed on Judy.

“There's an irrigation ditch that runs alongside the drive...” she said, closing her eyes and visualizing it in her mind, “If I creep out the back, I can get through the tall grass and into the ditch, and I should be able to crawl up beside them unseen...it's probably...I donno...fifteen, maybe twenty yards from the ditch to the first truck.”

“TEN!” Jack yelled, his paws clasped behind his back as he stared at the house.

“Okay, listen up,” Nick said, “I'm going out there to stall him...he didn't go to all this trouble just to gun me down...there's something else going on with this guy.”

“NINE!”

“When I give this signal...” He held up his open paw, then quickly clenched his fist, glancing at Otto, “You drill that big bastard holding Gideon right between the eyes. Can you do it, Staff Sergeant?”

“EIGHT!”

Otto grinned, giving a nod, “Like Sunday on the shooting range, sir! We'll give those Hun bastards something to think about.”

“SEVEN!”

“Carrots, when you hear the shot, you rush them, get Gideon in the truck and drive to me. With any luck, we can lead them away from the farm.”

“SIX!”

“Nick this is insane!” Judy said, pleading with her eyes, “ _He'll kill you!_ ”

“FIVE!”

Nick spun his gun on his palm and passed the grip to Judy, flashing a roguish grin. “Sometimes you gotta fight crazy with crazy, sweetheart,” he said, taking a deep breath, “Besides, I trust you.”

“FOUR!”

“No time left!” Nick said, patting Otto on the shoulder, “Get upstairs to a vantage point, sniper, and wait for my signal.”

Otto saluted sharply and crept away. Judy tucked both guns into the waistband at the small of her back. Nick was about to dash for the door when she grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back and pressing her lips to his in a deep, passionate, albeit brief kiss.

“THREE!”

“ _Don't die,_ ” she said, steely determination in her amethyst gaze.

“Don't miss!” Nick said with a wink, then turned and dashed to the front door as Judy bounded off in the opposite direction.

“TWO!” Jack bellowed just as Nick opened the front door and stuck both paws out.

“ _Don't shoot! Don't shoot!_ ” he yelled, peeking out, then seeing that they weren't opening fire, slowly emerged from the door.

“Nicky!” Jack said, flinging his arms wide in a welcoming gesture, the manic grin returning to his lips, “Wonderful to see you again after so long. Now, lets just get those arms up nice and high so we can make sure you aren't breaking my little no guns rule...”

Nick raised his arms straight up in the air, which pulled up his shirt and exposed his belt line. He turned his body to show his empty holster.

“Wonderful!” Jack said, clasping his paws in front of him, “Now we can talk without distractions.”

Nick lowered his elbows, but kept his paws raised, staring into Jack's crimson eyes with a hate filled glare, “What the hell do you want from me, Jack?! You came all the way out here just to kill me, is that it?”

“No, no, of course not...that would be such a waste!” Jack said, wringing his paws in obvious delight. “You made such a _lasting impression_ on me in the days of our youth that you never left my mind, Nicky,” he said, turning his head to expose the long scar slashing up from his jaw, “Under all your floral prints and snarky attitude lies the heart of a killer, and I want you on my team, son!”

“If you think I'm going to give up being a cop to become a dirt bag low life drug dealer like you, you're crazier than you look,” Nick retorted with a sneer.

“You think too small, Nicky,” Jack said with a high pitched giggle, “Although there is a certain poetic irony in turning the city's salvation into the herald of its destruction, don't you think? I'm only getting started, and you can get in on the ground floor.”

“I'd rather put you _under the ground_ , you murdering puke,” Nick said with a snarl.

“Speaking of things that belong in the ground...where is that delectable little morsel of yours, Nicky?” Jack said, peering around Nick at the various windows in the front of the farmhouse, “I have to say I had such a laugh when I realized you're a Prey Chaser! Such irony, especially given that _certain event_ from your past...I wonder, did you tell little Miss Hopps about that, Nicky? How much of the real you does she know?”

“ _You shut up about Judy!_ ” Nick growled, his lips drawing back and exposing his teeth, “If you lay a paw on her _I swear I'll kill you_.”

“That's the spirit, Nicky! I told you you're a savage killer deep down,” Jack said, bursting into a brief fit of laughter, “Mmmmm but if you won't cooperate, then I'll have no choice but to hunt her down, skin her alive and mail her back to you one piece at a time.”

Nick felt rage rising in his gut, making his blood boil. “You might find that hard to do with a bullet in your brain,” he growled, then suddenly clenched his fist.

A heartbeat later, the thunderous crack of Otto's rifle tore through the stillness and the back of the bear's head exploded in a cloud of pink mist. His head snapped back and he crumpled into a heap, his gun falling in the dirt, leaving Gideon standing in total shock.

Nick dove sideways, wrenching his backup pistol, the tiny Wolfther PPK, from its ankle holster concealed under his trouser leg. The instant he touched the ground, he pointed it at Jack and opened up with rapid fire.

At the same instant, Judy bounded up from the ditch beside the drive with a pistol in each paw, unleashing a furious hail of lead just as her footpaw touched the ground. She tore into a headlong dash, blasting with both guns, her bullets ripping into the torsos of the unsuspecting rams until they collapsed in bloody, bullet riddled heaps. She launched herself into a slide, coming to a halt against the wheel of the SUV, which judging by the lack of bullet holes in the side panels, turned out to be armoured against small arms fire.

Gideon stood with a shell shocked look on his face, staring at Judy with wide eyes, his lips moving faintly but forming no words.

“ _GET IN THE TRUCK, NOW!_ ” she screamed at him, then followed him in as he dove through the door.

Nick's first round tore through the eye socket of a tiger standing behind Jack, the second punching a neat hole into the tail of his overcoat as he dove behind the armoured door of his SUV. Several more rounds impacted the center of the door panel in a tight group, but failed to penetrate the armour plate. Scrambling onto all fours, Nick dove behind an elevated planter box constructed of old railway ties just as Jack returned fire through the notch between the door and the frame of his vehicle, the bullets striking the dirt where Nick had been a moment earlier.

Another rifle shot rang out, the bullet striking the armoured glass of the door Jack was hiding behind. He looked up to see the tip of the bullet poking through the spider cracked, bullet resistant window inches from his head. He burst into a manic fit of laughter, “ _YOU_ _THREW_ _ME A PARTY AFTER ALL, NICKY!_ ”

The staccato roar of automatic fire reverberated off the walls of the house as several of Jack's goons raked the upper windows with bullets. Shattered glass and wood splinters rained down on Nick, forcing him to cover his head momentarily before peeking up over the planter box and emptying the last three rounds from his gun. He dropped onto his back, panting heavily as he ejected the spent magazine and tugged another from a pouch strapped to his other ankle. “Come on, Carrots!” he whispered as he slammed the mag home and hit the slide release, driving a fresh round into the chamber.

Judy fired up the engine, slamming the truck in gear as a hail of gunfire spattered on the armoured glass beside her head, hopelessly cracking it but failing to penetrate. The engine roared and she spun the tires, kicking up gravel as she sat low in the seat, guiding the truck between Nick and the firing squad currently showering his tiny piece of cover with a hail of bullets. She reached across and kicked open the door. “NICK, GET IN!” she yelled over the deafening scream of gunfire and bullet impacts against the truck's armour.

Nick scrambled into the vehicle, standing on the running board, clutching the headrest tightly and opening fire over the roof as Judy hit the gas. They had only gone a few yards when the armoured glass beside Judy's head suddenly failed under the withering storm of lead, shattering inward. Nick ducked inside, holding on for dear life as Judy sunk lower in her seat, hiding behind the door armour but unable to see. The truck veered out of control, slamming into one of the trees in front of the house.

With a scream of fury, Judy held one of her guns over the door frame and blasted in the general direction of their attackers. When it slidelocked, she shifted her body and emptied the other gun at them. Tucking one pistol between her knees with the mag well facing upward, she quickly reloaded both pistols and released the slides. A few moments later, the shooting suddenly stopped; Judy glanced at Nick with an expression that was a mixture of hope and fear. Slowly, Nick raised his head just enough to peer over the edge of the door. What he saw made his heart jump into his throat; they had stopped firing because Laughing Jack was at that moment readying a rocket propelled grenade launcher he had pulled from the back seat of his truck.

“ _OH SHIT RPG!_ ” Nick roared, grabbing Judy and Gideon and hurling them and himself out of the vehicle. They all crashed to the ground in a tumbling heap. Nick barely had time to throw himself on top of Judy before he heard the thunderous boom of the RPG firing.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl, the silence so complete that the blood rushing in his ears sounded like a freight train as Nick waited. A few breathless moments later, the SUV exploded in a massive fireball, launching into the air and flipping end over end before landing on its roof, a burning pile of twisted metal.

Shaking his head to clear the ringing in his ears, Nick blinked to clear his vision and saw the tractor barn looming a dozen yards to his left. The farmhouse stood some twenty or thirty yards away, and dashing for it would be suicide, as they would be running almost directly away from their attackers. Without further thought, he scooped up Judy, slipping one of his arms under both of hers and around her chest, holding her tight against his side. With the other paw, he dragged Gideon up, then released him and grabbed his gun from the ground nearby. “GO, GO, GO!” he yelled, dashing headlong toward the tractor barn.

As they dashed past the end of the burning truck, the gunfire opened up again, bullets cracking past them and chewing up the ground around their footpaws as they ran. Judy unleashed a scream of fury, guns blazing in both her fists as Nick carried her. Nick was firing his own pistol as he ran, aiming for the rickety looking side door in hopes of weakening it sufficiently. Gideon was right on his heels, yelling in terror as he sprinted for his life. With bullets cracking and ricocheting around him, Nick hurled himself at the door, spinning around in mid air and slamming his back against it, clutching Judy against his chest to protect her.

The door splintered and gave way, crashing inward and sliding across the dusty floorboards inside the shed with Nick and Judy piled on top of it. Gideon landed on his stomach beside them a moment later, panting with mortal terror. They all scrambled up and got behind the tractor, knowing the wooden walls would do little to stop the withering onslaught of gunfire. Nick leaned out from behind the tractor's engine block and opened fire through one of the shattered windows, but after a few rounds, he stopped firing and a look of despair came over his face. “Oh geeze” he said, “He's got another one...”

Jack grinned, giggling like a child with a new toy as he tried to steady the RPG on target. After a few moments, the sights lined up and stopped. “Bye bye, Nicky,” he said, licking his lips, “Pity you wouldn't see things my way...”

The RPG fired with an ear shattering boom, sending the rocket screaming toward the wooden barn. As Jack looked on, smiling gleefully, it punched through the wooden wall and an instant later, there was a massive explosion that blew the walls to shivers, sending splintered wood and shattered glass in every direction. The roof split, rising a few feet before crashing down into a heap of refuse.

“Now that's how you finish up a party, boys,” Jack said, tossing the spent launcher into the back of his vehicle, “It's been a slice, but it's time we got back to work...won't be long before we're throwing the mother of all parties back home...”

They loaded into the remaining two vehicles and roared away, leaving the smoking, bullet riddled wreckage in their wake.


	18. Chapter 18

“Well...by the looks of it we had quite the hootinanny here this mornin', wouldn't you say Sergeant?”

Sergeant Buckerton, a tall, lanky whitetail deer, shifted the toothpick from the center of his mouth to the corner, regarding the corpse strewn driveway and bullet riddled facade of the Hopps farm house with serenely half-lidded eyes. “Eyup,” he said after a considerable pause, “Sure looks it, Marcy.”

Sheriff Grounderson, a middle aged ground hog and the affable head of the Bunnyburrow County Sheriffs Department, waddled over to the dead tiger, eying the AS-47 rifle still clasped in his paw. “Aw geeze,” she mused to herself, “Lotta shootin' went on up here, but no clue about who done the shootin'. Don't reckon Stu Hopps is real big into gunfights...”

“Uh, Sheriff,” Beau interjected, chewing thoughtfully on his toothpick.

“Yeah, Beau?”

“I reckon that there might be someone who's done some shootin' today,” he said, nodding toward the house.

Marcy turned toward the house and saw the decrepit form of Otto Hopps, inexplicably clad in his old military uniform, approaching with his rifle slung over his shoulder. One of his ears was bent backwards at a sharp angle, and he had a couple of large fragments of wood embedded in his left shoulder, a remarkably small amount of blood staining the fabric around the wounds.

“Whoah, there, Otto!” Marcy said, standing fully upright again, “Where you goin' with that...ahhh...rifle there?”

“Oh just makin' sure the Huns are all gone, Marcy,” Otto replied with an affable, albeit slightly lopsided grin, “What brings you out to the farm today? You seen foxes in the neighborhood? They're red cuz they're made by the devil, ya know!”

“Uhhhh...well, we're kinda hopin' you might be able to shed a little light on that...for instance...did _you_ shoot this fella here?”

“Oh no, Marcy,” Otto said, shaking his head, his broken ear flopping in a strange, unsettling manner.

“Oh good, I was startin' to worry—”

“I shot _that_ fella over there,” Otto interjected, shuffling over to the bear whose skull he had perforated with his first shot. He horked and spat on the bear's corpse, “That's what ya get, ya savage Hun bastard!”

“Okay, Beau, can ya help me out here?” Marcy said with a nervous glance at the Sergeant.

Buckerton strolled over to Otto, holding out his hoof. “You're hurt there, Otto,” he said in the same nonchalant tone he always used, “Why don'tcha let me hang on to yer rifle there so we can get you to a doctor to have a look at that.”

Otto handed over his rifle, though he looked puzzled, “Lookit what?”

“You got a little...a bit o' somethin'...sorta _stickin_ _'_ _out_ there...” Buckerton said, pointing at the large splinters of wood sticking out of Otto's shoulder. The bunny turned his head, trying to peer at the wood fragments. He gave a sneer and grabbed a hold of them, yanking them out of his flesh with one strong tug, then tossed them aside.

“That's nothin,” he said, “Hardly any feelin' left in most of my body these days anyhow. Say, have you two seen the Major?”

Beau perked a brow at Otto, then glanced at Marcy, who was looking back at him with an equally puzzled expression. “Uh...what Major would that be, Otto?” Beau asked, slinging the rifle over his shoulder as it seemed like less and less of a good idea to let the old bunny have it back.

“Major Wilde,” he said, “Trudy's fella from the big city.”

They all stared at each other in awkward, confused silence for a few moments before a sound began intruding into the still morning air. Beau inclined an ear toward what seemed like the origin of the sound, and he began to hear banging and muffled shouting. Turning toward it, he found himself staring at the wreckage of the tractor shed.

They dashed over to it, the sound growing louder the closer they got. Beau stood at the edge of the pile of blasted wood beams and planks, then clambered up onto it in order to peer through the tangle and listen. The distinctive sound of muffled cries for help and banging on something that sounded wooden reached his ears. “There's someone in there!” he exclaimed, glancing back at Marcy in astonishment, his toothpick falling from his lips in astonishment.

“Welp, we're gonna need the winch fer sure,” Marcy said, turning and making a waddling dash for her police truck.

About ten minutes of work with the winch and Beau's elbow grease cleared away enough rubble to uncover a small wooden trap door set into what had once been the floorboards of the shed. Beau crouched and yanked it open, staring in total astonishment at what he saw.

There was a storage cellar beneath the shed floor. Inside, Nick stood cradling Judy protectively against his chest, blinking and shielding his eyes from the sunlight. Gideon was standing beside him peering up with narrowed eyes. All were dusty and scratched up, but otherwise none the worse for wear.

Beau knelt at the edge of the opening, extending his hoof to help them up and out. Nick set Judy on the ladder and she climbed out, followed by Nick, then Gideon. They all picked their way out of the rubble that had once been the shed, gathering in front of it.

“You really saved our rumps back there, Carrots...quick thinking on your part,” Nick said, breathing a sigh of relief.

Judy smiled somewhat shyly, “We used to play in that cellar all the time as kids – I figured we'd be safe from the blast in there.”

Turning to Otto, Nick saluted sharply, “Great shooting, Staff Sergeant!”

Otto returned the salute, offering a smile and a nod as he brought his arm down.

Marcy glanced from Gideon and Nick to Otto, a look of confusion on her features. “Thought you didn't care for foxes, there, Otto...” she said with a perk of her brow.

“What foxes?” Otto asked, narrowing his eyes at her from behind his large rimmed spectacles.

“Well...these ones here right in front o' yer nose!”

“What? The pie maker? He's...just a durn ugly rabbit,” he said, glancing at Gideon, “No offense, son, it's just the truth of the matter, as ya know.”

Beau glanced at Marcy with a perked eyebrow, chewing on his toothpick. She looked back with her mouth slightly agape. “W...well what about this young fella, then?”

Otto narrowed his eyes at her again, leaning closer with a grim expression, “Major Wilde ain't no dang fox, ma'am... _he's a_ _warrio_ _r._ ”

Marcy stared in bewilderment for several seconds before Nick cleared his throat. “Staff Sergeant, I have to ask you to do one more thing for me; please show the good Sergeant here where your family is hiding out, and then you need to let the ambulance take you in to the hospital to get that wound checked.”

“Yes sir!” Otto said, saluting before turning to head off toward the house. Beau followed, a wry grin on his muzzle as he cast a knowing glance at Nick.

Nick smiled and produced his badge once Otto was out of earshot. “Officer Nick Wilde, ZPD,” he said, “I hope you won't mind looking the other way regarding my little impersonation of an army officer – it was purely for Otto's benefit, as I'm sure you understand.”

Marcy grinned and chuckled at that, “Sometimes you gotta pretend with Otto; don't sweat it.”

Gideon suddenly stepped forward with a look of anxiety on his face. “Sheriff, please, you gotta send a Deputy to check on Jenny and Ashley! Them evil bastards might already...” he said, faltering, his lips drawing into a taut line at the horrific thoughts that were swirling in his mind at that moment.

“Oh, sure thing, Gid, just a sec,” Marcy replied, keying her shoulder mic. “Hey Wally,” she said, speaking in the same relaxed, folksy manner she had previously, “Are you in town there?”

 _Oh sure, yeah, Sheriff_ came the reply over the radio.

“Are you gittin' coffee at Joe's?”

_Heheh...yeah. You sure know me real good, Sheriff._

“Go ahead and git me a large, kay? We're gonna be busy today,” she said, looking completely nonchalant, “Oh, but first, just zip on over and check up on Jenny and lil Ashley at Gideon's shop, there, wouldja? Be careful, could be some bad folk about in town.”

_Sure thing, Sheriff!_

Judy looked uneasy, wringing her paws as she stared at the Sheriff, “Ma'am, I don't want to presume to tell you how to do your job, but these mammals we're talking about are _extremely dangerous_...”

“Oh, darn tootin!” she said, “We heard they shot up ZPD this mornin' – cryin' shame, that was, I'm sorry fer yer loss. They looked like such nice folks too, on the news broadcast there. Anywho, when we heard that, we knew we'd best bring along our shotguns! Put 'em up front in the racks, and all.”

Nick and Judy glanced at each other, both looking extremely nervous. There was no way the Sheriffs Department was prepared to take on someone like Jack and his gang.

_Hey, Sheriff!_

Marcy keyed her mic again, “Go ahead there, Wally.”

_I'm standin' here with Jenny and Ashley, safe and sound. They're askin' where Gideon is._

“Oh, he's here with me, no reason for alarm,” she said, “Tell Jenny he'll be along in a little while.” She looked at Nick and Judy with an easy smile, “There ya go, no reason to fret.”

“They're probably headed back to Zootopia to carry on with whatever the hell it is Jack's planning,” Nick said, looking at Judy, “We need to get out of here and get back home!”

“I don't think we're going anywhere, Nick! There's like...” Judy said, pausing to count the corpses, “Four zooicides here...I mean, obviously self defense, _but still_...”

Nick turned and flashed a wide grin at Grounderson, “Listen, Sheriff, I realize you and your Deputies have a lot of work ahead of you, but we _really_ need to get back to the city to take this maniac down before he kills anyone else. How's about we just head on our way, and next week I'll send you a full case report on everything that went down here?”

Judy's jaw nearly dropped off her face. She stared at Nick in dumbfounded incredulity; there was no chance in hell that request was going to fly.

“Oh sure, that sounds great! It's pretty obvious that this wasn't all some clever plan to lure these fellas to their untimely end,” Marcy said, chortling with laughter at the idea, “You two just skedaddle and we'll hear from yas next week. Oh, take my card!” She held out her business card, which Nick pocketed with a salute and a charming smile.

Beau returned, trailed by Stu and Bonnie Hopps and several of the kids just as Nick and Judy were pulling the car out of the garage. They turned and gunned the engine, waving as they drove off toward the road.

“What a real nice fella,” Marcy said with a nod.

Beau merely rolled his eyes and chewed his toothpick.

As they pulled onto the main highway, Nick hit the gas. Judy fished his gun from her waistband and handed it to him. “You'll need this,” she said.

He grasped it and hooked the rear sight on the steering wheel to press check it before slipping it back into his holster. Returning both paws to the steering wheel, he gripped it tightly and stared ahead with a steely caste in his eyes, his lips a taut, grim line.

They had driven a mile or so in silence before Judy broke it, “Nick...I heard most of your conversation with Jack. Why is he so obsessed with you? What was he talking about when he said a 'certain event' from your past?”

Without looking at her, he pulled the car over to the shoulder, stopping alongside a creek in the shade of a willow tree. He shifted into neutral as the car halted, his paws resting on the steering wheel as he stared out the windshield.

She watched him expectantly, reaching out and laying her paw on his shoulder. “Nick, it's okay,” she said, her voice hushed, “I know who you _are_ , remember?”

His eyes slipped closed and he breathed a deep sigh, a brief silence intervening before he opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on her. “Before I tell you this, you need to know I only started to remember it when Eli showed us Jack's Interpol file...if I had known all of this before then...if I had remembered what a _monster Jack was..._ ”

Judy nodded, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, “I know, Nick...go ahead.”

“I met Jack when I was fourteen, about five years after my dad died. I was really messed up, and he was all too willing to encourage that. It wasn't long before I was working for him...” Nick began, his gaze returning to the horizon ahead of the car.

As he spoke, the protective veil of amnesia finally lifted from his memory, the images came flooding into his mind's eye. Rain had been pelting the city relentlessly for three days, the nights split by sporadic thunder and lightning. It had been one of the worst storms in recent memory, but it had served the young Nick Wilde's purposes beautifully.

He trudged through the rain slicked streets, the cuffs of his ragged jeans sopping wet, his paws thrust into the front pocket of his sweat shirt and the hood pulled low over his brow. He paused at the end of a wide alley between two tenements in one of the seedier parts of Savannah Central, casting furtive glances left and right before stepping into the darkness.

Near the middle, two figures stood on either side of a beaten up, harvest gold seventies era sedan. They regarded him dispassionately as he approached, the glowing cherries of acrid cigarettes that dangled from their lips casting their hard edged faces in a dim red glow, their tails swishing back and forth in jerky movements.

The taller of the two, a hyena named Jack Hargrieve, took a long draw on his cigarette, then blew out a foul cloud of smoke into the air, “You got the stuff, Nicky?”

His jet black mane was slicked back between his ears, only splaying out around the collar of his black canvas jacket. Beneath that, the ashen gray, black spotted fur of his neck disappeared beneath a dingy white wife beater that was tucked into a pair of camouflage cargo pants. He wore a thick black nylon belt with a deer skull molded into the buckle. Hanging from his neck on a string was a canine tooth, a souvenir from the first beating he ever administered.

Nick flashed a wry grin, withdrawing his paws from his hoody and spreading a veritable smorgasbord of ill-gotten loot on the trunk lid of the car: wads of cash, watches, jewelry, credit cards all laid out in a neat line. “The chumps were so preoccupied with this shit weather they never even saw me,” he said with a faint chuckle in his voice.

Slowly, a broad, cruel grin spread across Jack's muzzle, leaving his cigarette dangling from between his jagged teeth. “You done good, Nicky,” he said, slipping his fingers around the cigarette and taking another long drag before dropping it on the soaking pavement, “I think it's time we made you a part of the family.”

Nick scooped up the loot, tucking it back into his hoody to protect it from the elements for the time being. “Really, Jack?” he said with a grin, “That's awesome!”

“Not so fast, there, Red,” the slender jackal, Seth Grimm, interjected from the opposite side of the car. He was dressed in a black track suit with white stripes and a gold chain around his neck. He flicked his cigarette into the gutter, his lips curling into a grin almost as malicious as Jack's, “Still gotta pass the initiation...you don't just walk right into the Blood Fang Posse, even if you are wicked at muggings and picking pockets.”

“Initiation?” Nick said, his eyes locking on Jack, a sneer beginning to curl his lips, “What initiation?”

Jack's grin broadened and he stepped forward, slipping his arm around Nick's shoulder in a strangely affectionate gesture, leading him toward the rear door of the sedan. “Nicky,” he said in a hushed voice, opening the door with his free paw, “This is _family_ we're talking about, not the fucking Ranger Scouts...”

Nick glanced at Jack, then ducked inside the car. Jack followed and shut the door, sealing them inside alone briefly as Seth walked around the car to the driver's seat.

“We're not here to hurt you, Nicky,” Jack said, his bloody crimson gaze locking with Nick's, sending a chill down the fox's spine, “We want you to be one of us, but if you wanna be in the Posse, you're gonna have to earn your entrance in blood. Don't worry...I see a lot of myself in you; you'll do just fine. In fact, I think tonight is gonna be a real treat.” He punctuated his statement with a brief fit of high pitched, hollow sounding laughter before leaning back in his seat and lighting up another smoke.

Nick sat back in the seat as Seth fired up the engine, emptying the stolen goods from his pockets into a bag that could be easily discarded if the cops showed up, and tucked it under the seat in front of him. He looked out the window, watching the raindrops streak across his dim reflection, Jack's silhouette with its glowing cigarette hovering just over his shoulder.

They drove through the sheeting rain for at least twenty, maybe thirty minutes, through some of the darkest, most rundown streets in 'Central, to a largely abandoned industrial park near the wharfs. They turned through a chainlink gate that hung partially off its hinges and stopped in front of a roll up garage style door set into what appeared to be a disused warehouse. Seth shut off the headlights, got out, hit the controls near the door to open it, then got back in the car and drove inside.

The door clattered shut automatically, enveloping them in near complete darkness. They were inside a large open space with steel pillars placed at intervals to hold up the towering ceiling. The floor was dingy, grease stained concrete, and the only illumination came from safety lighting at the periphery. The dim glow of the safety lights created an eerie well of shadow in the center of the cavernous room.

Jack crushed out his cigarette beneath his footpaw as he stepped out of the car, thrusting his paws into his trouser pockets. Nick looked apprehensive as he and Seth exited the car, shutting the doors behind them. Nick cast a glance at Jack, “You guys aren't gonna give me an atomic wedgie or something, are you?”

Jack gritted his teeth to hold back a fit of giggling, making his lips curl up even more at the corners. “Such a wit, Nicky! One of the many things I love about you...” he said when he had sufficiently calmed his fit, “No, we have something very special for you...something you can really _sink your teeth into_...” With that he strode forward, stopping several feet from the front of the car, “Come, stand beside me, Nicky...”

Nick swallowed hard, feeling his heart pounding in his chest, taking a step, then another, until he found himself side by side with Jack. With growing unease he became aware of a faint whimpering, the sound of measured but ragged breaths, and faint scratchings and rustling of cloth.

Jack reached up and clasped a small box that hung from the ceiling on a chain that clattered when he touched it. There was a loud click as Jack pushed a button on the control box, and Nick's eyes were suddenly stung by a flood of blazing white light from above.

When he could finally open them, blinking several times as his sight adjusted to the sudden change in brightness, he felt his stomach shift and a chill wash over him at what he saw. Bound at the wrists and gagged with a dingy piece of cloth, sprawled on a filthy, discarded mattress, was a beautiful young white tail doe. She looked to be about twenty, with a lithe figure clad in a tight fitting, short black dress. One of the shoulder straps was broken and the hem was torn in several places. She had some swelling and cuts on her face, neck, arms and legs, and a look of sheer terror in her eyes as she gazed up at Nick through eyes wet with tears.

Placing his paws over Nick's shoulders, jack leaned down to bring his muzzle close to Nick's ear. “What we have here, Nicky,” he half growled, half whispered, “Is a prime example of everything wrong with society...a perfect little specimen of the sacks of _lunch meat_ that abused you. This haughty little slut thinks she and her kind are superior to you, thinks you're nothing but trash because you were born a fox. But here's the sweet little trick...you hurt her, they will _all_ feel it. Cut her up, bleed her, bite her, kill her, and they will _all_ feel the fear.”

Jack reached back into his pocket, pulling out a stiletto and snapping open the blade, holding it up in front of Nick's face. “You want to be a Blood Fang, then you gotta show us how you shed blood...but more importantly, you gotta show us how you _dominate_ …”

“Dominate…?” Nick asked, his gaze shifting from the terrified doe to the shining knife blade and back, “W..what do you mean by that?”

“You need to crush her spirit and make her submit to you. I want you to turn her into your plaything, Nicky...get your rocks off before you slit her throat. Make sure it hurts so good all along the way,” Jack burst into a fit of manic laughter, grabbing Nick's paw and slapping the switchblade into his palm before taking a step back and watching him with a wild, malevolent grin.

Nick stared down at the knife in his paw, then raised his eyes to meet the doe's terrified gaze. He read in those eyes that she believed he was about to do everything Jack said and more. His heart thundered in his chest, bile rising in his throat. He was disgusted by the thought of it, horrified that he suddenly found himself so close to the edge, so deep in the woods and so far from the narrow path that all he could see was the abyss yawning in front of him. He shuddered as he thought of what his father would say if he was standing there, what a miserable disgrace he had become to find himself in this awful moment. But what horrified and disgusted him more than anything else, what made him want to vomit, want to run, want to plunge the knife into his own guts and twist it, was the bitter, wrathful, selfish, cruel little part of him that wanted to do exactly what Jack asked.

“Come on, Nicky,” Jack said, his voice a low chuckle dripping with malevolence, “Fuck her before you shank her.”

“ _NO!”_ Nick roared, whirling and lashing out with a vicious slash. He felt the knife dig into Jack's jawbone, cleaving a gouge in it before slicing through the flesh of his cheek, slipping free just below his eye with a wet sounding snap.

Droplets of blood spattered Nick's face and paw as Jack let out an agonized scream and fell backwards. In a wild leap, Nick threw himself on the doe, grabbing her hooves and slipping the knife between her wrists. Before she could draw a breath, he had cut the cord binding her, setting her free. “ _GO!_ ” he yelled at her, spinning to face her attackers, “ _GET OUT NOW!_ ”

She scrambled up onto her hooves, making a wild dash for the back door on the other side of the warehouse. Jack was crumpled on his side, clutching at his face with a blood soaked paw and screaming profanities.

Seth snarled at Nick, flicking out his butterfly knife, spinning it until the handles clacked together, exposing the naked blade. “Big mistake, Red,” he growled low in his throat, “You're about to find out why they call me 'Slice'”

Nick lunged forward, grasping a pawful of the dust that thickly coated the disused warehouse floor and flinging it into Seth's face. It was just enough of a distraction for him to jump up and grab the light control, clicking the light off and plunging them into inky darkness before hurling it at the spot Seth's head had occupied moments before. The crack of the control box hitting home, accompanied by the frantic clattering of the chain and Seth's snarled curses proved it found its mark.

Not waiting to give them a chance to recover, Nick dashed for the emergency exit beside the garage door where they had entered, hurling himself against the crash bar and plunging out into the rain streaked night. He paused just outside the door, considering his next move; the yard was wide, and making a run directly for the gate they drove through would leave him totally exposed if either Seth or Jack had a gun. Looking around, he found a broken chunk of brick nearby and hurled it at the fence, causing it to rattle, before turning and slinking around the back of the building in hopes of disappearing among the alleys that interlaced the industrial park.

He plunged through the torrential rain, dashing as quickly and quietly as he could through the dark maze of alleys. He paused several blocks from where he started, panting heavily, and pressed his back against the wall, still clutching the switchblade in his paw. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on his next move.

“Come on, Nicky, you didn't think you could fool a jackal's nose with that cheap trick, didja?”

To Nick's horror, Jack's voice wafted through the rain, coming from his right side. He looked to see Jack standing only ten feet away, blood streaming from the gash in his face, soaking his white tanktop and dying it crimson. There was a savage gleam in his blood hued eyes that Nick had never seen before, and his muzzle seemed permanently set in a lunatic grin, his teeth slightly parted as he panted through the rage and agony that seemed to be surging through his veins.

“We're gonna gut you and make you red all over, fox,” came Seth's guttural threat from behind him; Nick was trapped with Jack blocking one end of the alley and Seth blocking the other.

In desperation, he grabbed a nearby trash can lid and hurled it like a giant steel frisby at Seth, turning on Jack and lunging at him, intent on driving the knife through his heart. Jack blocked Nick's first slash, diverting it and slamming his fist into Nick's nose, which split open in a burst of blood, his vision flooding with starbursts. Knowing Seth would be burying his butterfly knife in his back at any moment, Nick hurled himself at Jack again with a snarl of rage.

In a flash of motion, Jack caught Nick's fist, the knife plunging through the center of his palm before his fingers clenched tight. He squeezed with surprising strength before grabbing Nick's fist with his other paw and slinging him around with a twist of his hips.

Nick's back slammed hard against the alley wall, the knife slipping from his grasp, and fell in a heap on a pile of boxes. He coughed and got up on all fours, gritting his teeth against the pain.

Jack giggled quietly, holding up his impaled paw and ripping the knife out with the other. He cocked back his leg and delivered a brutal kick to Nick's gut that slammed him against the wall again, then bent and grabbed him around the throat, slamming him up against the wall and pinning him there.

Jack brought his blood splashed muzzle close to Nick's, the wound on his palm staining the white fur of Nick's throat. With slow, methodical, almost contemplative movement, he pressed the knife blade into Nick's cheek just below his eye, then traced it down to his jaw, pressing just hard enough not to draw blood. “After everything they did, after they _muzzled you_ like a slave, you're still just a little Ranger Scout at heart, huh, Nicky?” Jack said softly, staring hard into Nick's eyes, “You just don't get it...”

Nick could feel his heart pounding, his vision going dark around the edges as Jack's vice grip made it hard to breathe. He gritted his teeth and drew his lips back into a snarl, “ _Stop talking and_ _just kill me!_ ”

“I could cut you up so bad your own momma wouldn't know you…I could make you suffer in ways you can't imagine...” Jack said, pressing the point of the knife under Nick's chin, “But you'd stare at me with that same defiance in your eyes, wouldn't you, Nicky? Right to the _bitter end_...and where's the fun in that?”

Nick growled, trying to struggle but finding Jack merely squeezed tighter, sapping his strength.

“The truth is, Nicky, _I know you_...you were _so close_ to taking that plunge, weren't you? There's a dark, twisted little corner of your heart that wanted to do it. Deep down, you're just like me...you just haven't realized that life is meaningless and the only sane response is insanity."

“Y..you shut up!” Nick managed to choke out in a growl.

“I'm not going to kill you, Nicky…” Jack said with a quiet giggle, “I'm going to _break you,_ and when I do, you'll see that you've been just like me all along.”

The wail of sirens burst in their ears and they were suddenly enveloped in red and blue flashing lights. There was yelling and a scuffle, and the sound of something hard striking flesh and bone, followed by a thump. They were surrounded by cops with guns drawn, pointed at them. Seth lay in a heap on the ground with a tiger officer standing over him, a night stick in his paw.

Another officer, a burly whitetail buck, pointed a gun at Jack's head, “Drop it, shithead!”

Jack flashed a grin and raised his paws, the knife falling to the slick pavement with a clatter as he stepped back. Two more officers, a Rhino and a wolf, shoved him to his knees and cuffed him.

Nick turned to the buck, walking forward with his paws out in relief, “Thank goodness, you gu—”

His words and his relief were cut short as the buck's burly fist slammed into his gut, driving him to his knees. “Piece of shit, fox!” he snorted, “You and your little buddies get into a spat about who was gonna rape the girl first?”

“ _No, stop!_ ” came a female voice that rang out amid the furious downpour.

Nick looked up, wincing in pain, to see the young doe he had saved running up to the officer who slugged him. She put her hoof over his arm and looked at him with pleading eyes. “He wasn't there, officer! He must be some street kid they decided to rob after I got away,” she said, then casting a furtive glance at Nick added, “It was the hyena and the jackal who kidnapped me...they...they almost...”

She began sobbing, covering her eyes and turning away. Amid the relentless pounding of the rain, Nick couldn't tell if there were actually tears or not, but something told him she was putting on a show to convince the cops. After what he nearly did to her, she was lying to save him. Nick groaned and hunched forward again, resting his forehead against the sopping concrete.

“Sorry 'bout that, kid,” the buck said with a snort, sounding less than apologetic, “Keep your nose clean and maybe we won't see you around.”

After the sirens faded and he was left alone again amid the pitiless downpour, he had dragged himself up and shambled to the shelter of a nearby doorway. Slumping against the wall, he had stared at the blood dripping from his nose, forming a little pool that swirled amid the rain water and slowly drained away. Lying there, wracked with pain, grief and self loathing, he had imagined the blood was his guilt and the memory of Jack and the Blood Fang Posse, of everything he had done, being washed away. Clinging desperately to that thought, he had fallen into a fitful sleep.

The gentle caress of Judy's paw brushing a tear from his cheek snapped him back from the painful remembrance. He blinked several times, turning his eyes toward her. “I've never hated myself more than I did that night...” he breathed, “I guess I hated myself and them so much that my mind erased it all to protect me. When I woke up, I believed it was all just a nightmare...the side effect of a bender. After that I kept my nose clean for a while, then eventually hooked up with Fin again and started running cons. They rest...well, you pretty much know the rest.”

She gazed back at him, her paw still tenderly caressing his cheek. “What do you expect me to say, Nick?” she asked, searching his eyes as if trying to read all the emotion that lay behind them, “After everything you've done in your life, do you think I'm going to condemn you for something you _didn't do?_ ”

“I guess I should know by now you're too good for that, Carrots,” he said, his lips breaking into a smile, “Even when I tried and convicted myself for it.” He reached out, slipping his paw around the back of her head and drawing her closer to deliver a soft kiss to her forehead.

“I know one thing for certain,” she said, drawing back slightly, “Those sick bastards have to be stopped. We need to get back and warn ZPD.”

A look of sudden realization washed over Nick's features and he grinned at Judy. “Carrots!” he said, “I got an idea! You call Eli, I'll call Sheriff Grounderson.”

“Oh? What for?” she asked, perking up her ears and regarding him quizzically.

Nick grinned broadly, fishing out his phone, “The reports of our demise need to be greatly exaggerated.”


	19. Chapter 19

Wolfram opened his liquor cabinet to retrieve the crystal decanter containing the last of his rye. He'd been far too busy of late to get out and replenish it, and he figured having company was a rare and special enough reason to polish it off. Cold rain pelted the french doors of his study; the storm outside had been raging since about noon, a sudden and violent spring tempest that seemed eerily apropos to the morning's sinister and gruesome events.

Wolfram's study was a slightly rectangular room with a modest fireplace and french doors leading to a wrought iron balcony that faced the front of the heritage brownstone. The fireplace stood opposite the door, flanked on either side by ceiling height mahogany bookcases, their shelves lined with an eclectic assortment of books on subjects ranging from botany to military history, even including a few volumes of classic literature and poetry.

On the left wall of the room, behind Wolfram's ponderous antique oak desk, stood the generously stocked liquor cabinet. In front of the desk was a large oriental rug that covered a portion of the black walnut flooring. A small round table stood in the center of this, ringed with a rich hunter green and gold brocade parlor set consisting of a settee placed opposite the desk and two wing backed chairs on either side. Judy and Nick occupied the settee, while Mundi, wearing only his rumpled brown suit and green tie as his overcoat hung on the rack by the door, had claimed one of the arm chairs.

The french doors stood opposite the desk, permitting an unobstructed view of the city skyline. On the wall immediately to the left of the door stood a huge cork board whose surface was almost completely plastered with notes and photographs pertaining to the case, with lengths of red string connecting various elements to each other. It was obvious Wolfram brought his work home with him.

There was a dull thunk as he set the decanter on the blotter in the center of his desk. He turned back to the cabinet, pulling out an etched crystal glass and holding it up to Nick and Judy. “Whiskey?” he asked, “No standing on ceremony, either, after the morning we've all had.”

Nick shook his head, casting a brief look at Judy, “It'd be our second of the day. I'll pass, thanks, Eli.”

“None for me, thanks,” Judy said.

Wolfram shrugged and set another glass on his desk beside the first, pouring two generous drams of the rich, amber coloured whiskey. “Suit yourselves,” he said, slipping the stopper back into the bottle and setting it aside, “More for me.”

He passed one glass to Lieutenant Mundi, who took it and clinked the edge with Wolfram's glass, raising it in a toast. “To the fallen, and to bringing their killers to justice,” Mundi said solemnly, taking a sip of the toasty, full bodied rye.

Wolfram downed half of his glass before setting it on his desk and slumping into his chair. He entwined his fingers, tenting his paws as he regarded Nick and Judy with the incisive gaze that indicated his mind was coming into acute focus. He had shed his jacket and coat on the rack by the door into his study and sat in a white shirt with a narrow black stripe pattern and double cuffs with gold cufflinks. The black nylon shoulder holster rig containing his .45 hung around his shoulders.

“On that subject,” he said, his lips curling into a faint smile, “We should hear from the ghosts in the room – clever move, by the way, making it appear you both died at the farm in order to throw Jack off your scent. It took some convincing, but Bogo eventually agreed to feed false info to the media. I imagine your untimely demise will make the six o'clock news. Now, you mentioned on the phone that a friend of yours is with Hargrieve?”

“Yeah,” Nick said with a nod, his eyes sinking to the ornate rug, “Finnick...you saw him the day you came to visit me in the hospital. We've been friends since we were kids...”

“ _Shit..._ ” Wolfram breathed, “Are you sure? How did you figure it out?”

“Among other things, he was the only one who could have slipped me Harbinger when Judy and I went to the Igloo, and he was the only mammal in the city I told about our trip to Bunnyburrow,” Nick said, meeting Wolfram's gaze again, “I don't know why, but he's with the Blood Fangs. I'm certain of it.”

“As certain as you are,” Mundi said, swirling his glass contemplatively, “That alone won't be enough to convince a Justice to swear out a warrant. We'll need something substantial before we can move on him; I've got a contact I can call at Rodentia Precinct who has assets that can help us out.”

“Eli, what have you got on Hornady? You said you had enough to get a warrant?” Judy asked, turning her attention to Wolfram.

“A week of digging through his trash bins finally paid off” Wolfram said, turning his ochre gaze to Judy, “We got a bank statement that showed a deposit of fifty thousand cash that occurred just after the break in at the lab. That combined with the surveillance of him at the Palm, along with the circumstances of the burglary will be enough for a search warrant. Hopefully we find the smoking gun at his residence and we can arrest him on the spot.”

“Nice!” she said with a grin, “But we can't risk taking one or the other down piecemeal...if Fin or Hornady gets arrested, the other is certain to go underground. We have to take them both at more or less the same time.”

Mundi nodded, taking a swig of whiskey before setting the glass aside, “Right. We'll have to have the information on Hornady ready and waiting to swear out a warrant over the phone and roll immediately once we have a warrant for Finnick.”

“We'll get it,” Wolfram said, a grim scowl overtaking his features, “Finnick is in this up to his neck if he's willing to go so far as to betray a childhood friend. All it's going to take is some good surveillance and we'll have him by the balls.”

Mundi smirked, rising from his seat and scratching the back of his head, “Such a way with words, Eli.” He turned to Judy, “Care to help me out with some of this paperwork, Hopps? We've got our work cut out for us.”

“Sure!” she said, rising from the settee. She paused and turned back to Nick, “Coming along?”

“I'll catch up later,” Nick said, flashing her a weak smile.

“He can take my car, just to be on the safe side,” Wolfram said, his lip curling into a wry smirk, “He can sit on a phone book and nobody will be able to tell the difference.”

Judy chuckled faintly at that. Without thinking, she reached out and squeezed Nick's paw, “See you soon. Be safe.”

Judy departed with Mundi, shutting the door, but Nick remained in his seat, his paws clasped in front of him and his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the rug.

Wolfram regarded him in silence for a moment, studying him with his discerning gaze. Wordlessly, he turned and pulled another glass from the cabinet, pouring a shot of whiskey and setting the decanter back on the desk. Taking up the glass he strode over to Nick, holding it out to him. “You need one of these after all,” he said, his voice low and measured.

Nick looked up at him, then took the glass, turning it in his paw and watching the rich amber liquid swirl. “Have you ever wanted to kill someone, Eli?” he said quietly before taking a long sip of whiskey. “I mean _really_ wanted to do it?” he said, lowering his glass, “'Cause right now, I feel like there's a nine millimeter solution to the problem of Laughing Jack Hargrieve.”

Wolfram sighed, sinking into the armchair to Nick's right. He paused a moment, then pulled his pistol from its holster, holding it out in front of Nick, the muzzle pointed up at an angle toward the ceiling. The brushed steel slide glowed faintly in the mellowed light seeping through the rainclouds and washing in through the windows, the rich grain of the rosewood showing between Wolfram's fingertips as he gripped the gun in his paw. He seemed to muse over it in silence, long enough for Nick to take another swig of whiskey, before he spoke. “Do you know why a police officer's badge is in the shape of a shield?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the gun.

Nick furrowed his brow at the abrupt change of tack, “No, I guess I never thought about it...”

“It hearkens back to the age of chivalry,” he said, leaning forward to lay the gun on the round table in front of them, “It's a symbolic reference to the knights who went out to do good in the world wearing a shield on one arm and carrying a sword in the other.”

“You haven't answered my question, Eli,” Nick said, polishing off the last of his whiskey and setting the glass down beside Wolfram's gun.

“The difference between a knight and a sword slinging bandit is that a knight always serves a higher cause, and the cause he serves is marked on his shield,” Wolfram continued, his gaze meeting Nick's, “The day we took up our shields, we ceased to belong to ourselves – now we belong to the cause, and to everyone else who carries the shield. To Chillton, Fleetwood, Muskgrave, Swift, and Ramsay... _and to Judy..._ ”

A look of surprise and alarm washed over Nick's features for a moment, but he relaxed when he saw the knowing smile on the detective's face.

“The reason Justice holds a sword in her right paw is the same reason you and I hold a gun in ours,” Wolfram said, leaning forward in his chair, his forearms resting on his knees, fingers interlaced, “We can't use our swords for an unjust purpose without betraying our shields, and ourselves.” He sighed, staring hard at the gun laying on the table before adding, “ _No matter how bad_ _ly_ _we_ _may_ _want to._ ”

A faint grin crossed Nick's muzzle, “And here I thought you were the bitter cynic among us.”

“A cynic, maybe, but not a nihilist,” Wolfram said, matching Nick's faint smile, “You gotta believe in something or you'll never stand for anything.”

Nick chuckled and rose from his seat, slipping his paws into his trouser pockets as he turned and headed for the door. He paused half way, not turning around. “Does it get any easier...holding back, I mean?” he asked, inclining an ear toward Wolfram.

“It gets _harder_ , actually,” Wolfram replied, slipping his gun back into its holster and leaning back into the plush upholstery of his chair, “But then again, I never had Judy Hopps.”

Nick paused and seemed to consider this for a moment before he spoke. “She's a double edged sword,” he said quietly, his back still turned to Wolfram, “I would endure anything for her, become anything for her...but if I _lost her_...” He seemed to think better of saying more, abruptly exiting the room and closing the door behind him.

“There wouldn't be a Blood Fang left breathing anywhere,” Wolfram said quietly.

-~x0x~-

As they rattled their way through the rain drenched streets in Mundi's beat up Studebarker, Judy looked pensively out the window and watched the rain streak in rivulets down the glass. After riding in silence for several minutes, she leaned back in her seat and turned to Mundi. “You mentioned you had some assets that could help us get grounds for a warrant on Finnick?” she said, perking her ears up.

“Oh, right!” Mundi said, reaching into his suit jacket to fish out his phone, “Thanks for reminding me, I'd best get that all set up.”

Judy watched him with considerable interest as he quickly dialed a number and held the phone up to his ear, his other paw wrapped around the steering wheel.

“Sergeant Ratigan, Rodentia Precinct,” said the voice on the other end, “Talk to me.”

“Jimmy!” Mundi said, a broad, easy smile spreading over his muzzle, “It's me, Lieutenant Mundi!”

“Mundi!” Ratigan said, his chair creaking audibly as he leaned back, “Damn, it's good to hear from ya! What can I do for ya?”

“I need to ask you a favour, Jimmy,” Mundi said, “We've got a huge case on the go, and we need surveillance pronto. It's critically important that we get the evidence to support a warrant on this guy ASAP – we need the Triple S.”

Ratigan let out a low whistle, “The Secret Squirrel Squad, huh? Who's the target?”

“A fennec named Finnick,” Mundi said, casting a glance at Judy, “He's in deep with the Blood Fang Posse and they're up to something real big.”

“Ah, a canine, huh? They're the worst for sniffing out surveillance…I can see why you wanted the Triple S on it. Okay, no problem, I'll dispatch 'em to Precinct One right away and you can brief 'em yourself.”

“Thanks, Jimmy!” Mundi said in his usual jovial manner, “I owe you one. We'll have to go out for a drink again sometime.”

“Yeah, sure, ya workaholic,” Ratigan said with a chuckle, “Say hi to Mrs. Mundi for me. Cheers!”

“Bye!” Mundi said, ending the call and slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“I've never heard of the Secret Squirrel Squad!” Judy said, clenching her fists and bouncing in her seat.

Mundi regarded her with a perk of his eyebrow and a wry smile, “That's why they call them 'secret'”

Judy chuckled, blushing and rubbing the base of her ears, “I guess you've got a point there... That's so cool that Rodentia Precinct has their own special surveillance team, though! I guess it kinda makes sense that tiny animals would be good at being inconspicuous...”

“They're the best there is,” Mundi said with a grin, “They'll get him dead to rights; don't doubt it.”

Judy lapsed into pensive silence, turning her gaze to the road ahead, furrowing her brow. Mundi glanced at her, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth a couple of times.

“Something on your mind, Hopps?” he asked gently.

“Oh...um,” she said, looking at him briefly before folding her paws in her lap, “I'm just a little worried about Nick, I guess...I think he and Ramsay were close – they graduated together from the academy. And then this thing with Finnick...it's a lot for anyone to go through all at once.”

Mundi nodded, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. “Seems to me he's been through worse lately and come through all right,” he said, “The two of you together...like a couple of shit magnets, if you'll pardon the expression.” Mundi chuckled briefly, then added, “Hopps, I may not know you two all that well, but even I can see you have a special bond. I think as long as Wilde knows you have his back, he'll be fine.”

“Thanks Lieutenant,” she said, her face brightening considerably, “I think you're right about that.”

“That's why I make the big bucks,” he said with a grin.

-~x0x~-

It wasn't long before the Secret Squirrels came through; a little more than thirty six hours later, Judy, Nick, Wolfram and Mundi stood in the Zooicide department conference room around a table strewn with photographs of Finnick and his limo. They were accompanied by two dozen SWAT officers in full gear.

The series of pictures showed Finnick delivering a massive load, at least fifty kilos, of Harbinger to a dealer in the Rainforest district. Along with the photos of the drug buy, there were recordings made with a directional microphone of the transaction. The surveillance operation also uncovered Finnick's safe house in Tundratown, located in an old brownstone in an upscale neighborhood. They even managed to record Finnick's end of a phone call between him and Jack. All in all, it was utterly damning evidence. It took the Justice of the Peace all of five minutes to approve the warrant over the phone.

Wolfram was just finishing the briefing for the operation. “Okay, everyone clear on this?” he said, casting his eyes around the room, “We need to be quick on this one to make sure they can't call in reinforcements. While we're moving on Finnick's safe house, Mundi will be serving a warrant at Hornady's residence.” Everyone nodded their silent agreement, and within minutes, they were piled into white panel vans staged in the back parking lot of the police station and rolling out on their way to begin the operation.

There was a palpable tension within the stark confines of the van as Nick and Judy rumbled through the darkened, deserted streets of Tundra Town's west side. Stealth and surprise were essential for the operation, and so the blank white cargo vans had to be used despite their lack of armour protection and heaters. Bench seats had been hastily bolted in, both sides of the van lined with fully geared SWAT officers, their carbines slung in front of them as their breaths puffed out in little wisps into the crisp air. Nick sat beside the rear door across from Wolfram, with Judy tucked up close beside him.

In contrast to his usual sports coats and ties, Wolfram was dressed in simple khakis and a dress shirt, his rifle plate body armour, and a heavy black overcoat and black tactical gloves to keep the chill at bay. His detective's shield hung from a breakaway chain around his neck, swaying gently with the motion of the vehicle. A twelve gauge pistol grip shotgun lay across his lap. Nick and Judy were similarly attired in civilian clothes, with a fleece lined pea coat and a puffy parka respectively. Both wore their badges around their necks.

Wolfram was the first to break the silence, his eyes fixed on Nick, who sat motionless, arms crossed, “It isn't too late to back out of this. Nobody is going to think less of you if you do...”

Nick looked up, his eyes meeting Wolfram's in a resolute stare. “Not a chance,” he said, “These guys are all going down... _especially Fin_ _nick_.”

“And if he resorts to deadly force?” Wolfram pressed, searching Nick's face with his characteristic discerning gaze.

“ _Then I_ _'ll_ _put him down_ ,” Nick said, his voice almost a low growl.

Wolfram nodded, checking his watch; it was 0325 hours, five minutes to go-time. Moments later, the van halted and he and Nick threw open the back doors. They leaped out, immediately spreading out and drawing their guns, scanning the area for threats. Like clockwork, the SWAT troopers poured out of the van, joined by more from a second van that had been following behind. Nick and Judy moved rapidly to opposite ends of the old brownstone building that housed the target.

Nick positioned himself just inside the mouth of the east alley, hidden within the shadows, his gun tucked behind his leg as he kept a lookout. He glanced down the street to Judy, who was positioning herself at the west end of the building, sheltering behind a large dumpster just inside the alley, her pistol clutched in both paws, held at the low ready. She nodded to Nick, her deep purple eyes darting around as she scanned the area for threats.

“Bravo-six, in position,” Nick said, whispering into his hidden radio mic.

“Charlie-four, in position,” came the call from the second perimeter team, Fangmeyer and Delgato.

“Ten-four, breaching the lobby,” Wolfram whispered back over the radio. From his position, Nick could see him kneeling at the front doors, placing the Door Cracker against the prox card lock. It was a clever little device the boys at R&D came up with that effectively bypassed RFID lock technology using a computer algorithm. Within moments, the prox card scanner flashed green and Wolfram threw the door open, stepping inside and holding it as SWAT silently poured in.

Once they were all inside, Wolfram quickly moved up to the front of the line of officers stacked up outside the target door, shotgun at the ready, and quietly flicked the safety to the off position. He raised his fist, and each officer squeezed the shoulder of the officer in front of them until Wolfram felt it on his right shoulder. He sucked in a quiet breath, about to give the go signal.

There was a deafening blast and the door erupted in a shower of splinters, spattering the wall opposite with lead pellets and fragments of oak. Someone inside had opened fire with a shotgun. Two more blasts ripped through the door, causing Wolfram to stagger back a step.

“ _SUCK ON THIS, COPPERS!_ ” a gravelly voice bellowed from within.

“ _FLASH BANG!_ ” Wolfram roared, practically ripping it from the paw of the officer behind him, pulling the pin with his teeth and tossing it through the gaping hole in the door.

There was a thunderous blast accompanied by a blinding flash as the distraction device exploded inside the apartment. Eli bounded up and kicked in the shredded door, blasting the shooter, a wolverine, square in the chest as he rushed inside. “ _GO, GO, GO!_ ” he yelled, hearing the troopers rushing in behind him.

The staccato roar of automatic weapons, punctuated by the booming report of the shotgun, filled the night. Outside, Nick brought his gun to low ready, his breaths coming faster as he prepared himself for action. Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass behind him made him spin on his heel. Finnick had crashed through the side window, landing in a heap of broken glass and splintered window frame in the snow blanketed alley. Their eyes locked for a moment, and Nick saw Finnick utter a curse before springing to his feet and dashing off down the alley away from him.

“ _Eyes on the subject!_ ” Nick yelled into his radio, sprinting off after his former partner in crime as fast as his legs could manage.

Finnick dashed to the end of the alley, bounding up onto a dumpster and over a chain link gate blocking another alley that met it at a right angle. Nick followed, easily clearing the obstacle due to his greater height. He hit the ground running, but Finnick was already dashing into the street at the end of the alley.

“Crossing Rime Street into the next alley!” Nick said, pausing only half a breath to scan the road for cars before throwing himself headlong into an all out run.

“Nick, I'm coming around to cut him off!” Judy's voice sounded in his earpiece, “Don't lose visual!”

Finnick was gaining a lead, darting through the maze of alleys rapidly, his stumpy arms pumping furiously and his footpaws tearing up puffs of powdery snow with every step. They rounded a corner into a long alleyway with a tall chain link fence in the middle. Finnick jumped onto it and scrambled his way up to the top, flipping over and descending a bit before dropping and continuing his flight. Nick saw his chance; throwing himself into a wild leap, he caught the fence up high and, using his longer limbs, threw himself up over the top. He planted his footpaws on the top bar and lunged at Finnick, landing on top of him and tumbling in a snarling tangle of limbs and fur.

The fennec landed a savage kick to the gut, sending Nick crashing to the ground a few feet away, then whipped a switchblade from his pocket. Nick rolled to his feet and snapped his gun up, pointing it at Finnick's face.

There was death in Nick's eyes as he gripped the pistol with both paws, its barrel rock steady as he glared over the sights. “Drop it,” he said, his voice a low growl.

Finnick, still on one knee, tossed the knife aside, raising his paws in surrender. They stood panting and staring for a moment before Nick's muzzle wrinkled into a furious snarl. “You sold me out, _you back-stabbing little bastard…_ ” he said, his voice low and guttural.

“What about you, huh, Nick!? You left me high and dry; _I had to survive!_ ” Finnick shot back, though his faltering voice and cowed ears suggested he wasn't as sure of his words as he tried to sound.

Nick's nostrils flared, a growl escaping his throat before his words came again, “He killed five good cops, and he almost killed me, Fin! _HE ALMOST KILLED JUDY!”_

Finnick seemed to choke, resting his paw on his knee as he panted a few more breaths. He raised his eyes, meeting his former friend's hate filled gaze, “I swear, Nick… _I swear_ it wasn't supposed to be this way...”

Nick was about to reply when he noticed Finnick's eyes dart to the right, looking over Nick's shoulder. He flinched, half turning, but he was too late; the cold steel of a pistol barrel pressed against his temple. “ _Shit!_ ” he hissed.

Seth Grimm stood behind him dressed in jeans and a black hoodie, a vicious grin on his narrow muzzle, his tall prick ears flattened back. “Drop it, flatfoot,” he growled.

Nick swallowed and tossed his gun in the snow in front of Finnick. The fennec scrambled forward and grabbed it, although it was slightly too large for his paws. He glanced around nervously. “Come on, let's get out of here, man, this place is crawling with cops…,” he said, rising to his feet.

Seth's black lips curled back further, making his jagged smile even more grotesque than before. His cold, green-gray eyes shifted slowly to Finnick, “Naw, bro...you ice this fool and you're in tight with Jack for good, you dig?”

Finnick hesitated, glancing around a few times. Finally, a grim scowl overtook his features as he stared hard at Nick, his panting subsiding and an eerie calm descending on his tiny form.

Nick's arms fell limp at his sides as Finnick raised the gun, pointing it at his head. He silently prayed that Judy wouldn't have to see what was about to happen. He stared hard at his betrayer, “So this is how it ends, huh, Fin? _You sold your soul to that devil..._ ”

“Shut up, Red!” Seth hissed, “ _Do it, Fin!_ ”

_NICK! Come in, Nick, status!?_

Judy's desperate voice sounded in Nick's earpiece as he let his eyes slip closed, taking a deep breath and waiting for the end. _I'm so sorry, Judy..._ he thought.

“Sorry, Nick...” Finnick said, squeezing the trigger.

There was a deafening blast and something hot splashed on Nick's cheek. A shock went through him, but as he heard the dull thud behind him, he realized he wasn't dead and snapped his eyes open. Finnick was standing in front of him holding his smoking pistol. Nick turned on his heel to see Grimm sprawled in the snow, a pool of crimson spreading from the back of his head, his lifeless eyes staring into the sky, a neat little bullet hole in his forehead.

Nick turned back, his eyes wide. Finnick smiled and tossed the gun at Nick's feet, kneeling in the snow with his paws on the back of his head. Just then, Judy dashed around the corner, leveling her gun at Finnick and moving in. Nick picked up his gun, holstering it without a word as Judy snapped the handcuffs on.

“Nick, _thank goodness._..when I heard the shot...” Judy began, casting a glance at Finnick.

“All units, this is Wolfram, two in custody, three DOA. Take positions and clear the area for transport,” Wolfram's voice broke in over the radio, “Wilde, did you get him?”

Nick pressed his mic switch. “Yeah, we got him,” he said, "And one more DOA - Seth Grimm." Just then, Fangmeyer and Delgato rounded the corner, jogging up and taking hold of Finnick, lifting him to his feet and walking him toward the waiting paddy wagon that had just rolled up in front of the building.

Without a word, and without regard to who was watching, Nick pulled Judy into a warm embrace, cradling her head against his chest for a moment. At length they drew back and looked at each other, exchanging faint smiles. Nick looked up to see Finnick standing at the end of the alley looking back at him, a rare look of tranquility on his face. Their eyes met and Finnick gave him a nod before Fangmeyer nudged him and told him to move along.

Wolfram stood just outside the van he arrived in, his shotgun hanging at his side as he supervised the movements of the officers. Suddenly his phone rang; it was Mundi.

“Wolfram here,” he said, answering the call, “Talk to me, Mundi.”

“Got bad news and good news and worse news...” Mundi said; he sounded out of breath.

“What is it?” Wolfram said, furrowing his brow.

“Hornady barricaded himself in his bedroom when we arrived,” Mundi said, his voice slightly shaky, “I tried my best to talk him down, but he ended up taking the easy way out...blew his brains out before we could get in to stop him.”

“Shit... _damn it!_ ” Wolfram hissed, “Well...what about the good news?”

“Good news is his computer is loaded with evidence...he even left a suicide note confessing to his part in all this. This goes a long way toward making a solid case against Jack and his cronies.”

“I'm almost afraid to ask about the worse news, Mundi...” Wolfram said, jumping into the van as the last trooper took his seat. He banged on the roof three times to signal the driver to go.

“Harbinger isn't really a street drug...dealing it to junkies was only phase one…a sort of field test, and a means of raising extra funds for phase two...” Mundi said.

“What?!” Wolfram said, his brows knitting in alarm and confusion, “What the hell is it then?!”

“ _A chemical weapon._ ”


	20. Chapter 20

Finnick was slumped in the cold steel chair in the interrogation room at Precinct One, flanked by his state appointed lawyer. It was just striking nine a.m. when Wolfram arrived and took a seat. The lawyer, a dour young female zebra with wire rimmed spectacles and a file tucked under her arm, regarded the detective with a dispassionate gaze, but said nothing.

On the other side of the large one way glass window, Nick and Judy stood side by side observing the interview. Nick's eyes were fixed on Finnick, his paw stroking thoughtfully at his muzzle.

Wolfram began by introducing himself and explaining that the interview was tape and video recorded, going over his right to remain silent and assuring him that no inducements or threats were involved in the process. Finnick stated he understood.

The detective let out a quiet sigh, shutting his eyes and loosening his tie slightly as he leaned back in his chair. After a moment, his eyes opened and he fixed his rusty stare on Finnick. He tilted his head as he studied the fennec fox, his fingertips gently drumming on the table. Finally, after a silence so long the lawyer was beginning to fidget, he said, “Listen, I've seen your rap sheet. I know this isn't your first trip to the rodeo, so I'm not going to play any stupid games with you. I also know this is way beyond anything you've ever been involved in. It's my job to make sense of this gigantic shit storm, so I'd like to hear it from your perspective.”

“Having a hard time making sense of it myself...” Finnick said, his gaze cast to the floor, although he occasionally made furtive glances at the one way glass.

 _He knows Nick is watching,_ Wolfram thought, _Good._

“I'm told you and Nick were friends a long time…met when you were kits?” Wolfram said, his tone relaxed and conversational, though his study of Finnick's every movement was unrelenting.

“Yeah,” Finnick said, “Inseparable, just about.”

“You two were running cons together when Nick and Judy met, isn't that right?”

“Yeah, we uh...had this bit we'd do. No reason to go into it. We were partners, that's the point,” Finnick said, his voice low, his eyes still downcast.

“Until Judy came along and stole him away, right? Off he goes and becomes a cop, leaving you hanging,” Wolfram said, his tone remaining neutral as he subtly attempted to pry his way into Finnick's inner world.

“Yeah, him becoming a cop pretty much put an end to our...business activities.”

“Is that why you joined up with Hargrieve and stuck a blade in Nick's back?” Wolfram said, his words provoking, though his tone remained calm.

“I didn't...I didn't mean for any of this shit to happen! It wasn't like that!” Finnick said, his eyes finally meeting Wolfram's and betraying a flash of emotion.

“Sure, you didn't pull the trigger,” Wolfram pressed, inching just slightly closer, “But you nearly got you friend killed on multiple occasions; I just want to know why.”

“My client declines to answer that question,” the lawyer interjected, beginning to look very uncomfortable with the rising levels of tension evident in her client.

“If I wanted to kill Nick, I've had plenty of chances to do it,” Finnick said, his lip curling slightly, “I'm a victim here too! I didn't have a choice...and even if I did, I didn't know all the insane shit jack was planning!”

“Mister Finnick, I advise you...” his lawyer piped up again, glancing nervously at her tiny and now very animated client.

“Why would I want to hurt Nick?” he asked, holding out his paws, “I wouldn't do the kinda sick shit Jack and Seth were all into...I didn't mean for none of it to happen!”

“He's dodging... _damn it,_ ” Nick muttered. He tapped his fingertip on his muzzle a few times before a look of resolution came over his face. “Excuse me, Carrots,” he said to Judy, moving to the door and knocking sharply. Wolfram had been about to speak again, but he stood up and opened it, letting Nick inside.

He stared at Finnick for a moment, then turned to Wolfram. “Detective, would you mind if I just had a few words with him?” he asked, his voice low and measured. Outside the window, Judy watched with keen interest, wondering what Nick was planning.

Wolfram nodded, casting a withering glance at Finnick. “Sure, Wilde,” he said with a faint sneer, “The smell of bullshit was getting a bit thick in here anyway.” He exited, moving to stand beside Judy in the observation room as Nick sat down in Wolfram's chair.

Nick stared hard at his former friend, his paws folded neatly in his lap. Seconds ticked by as he continued to stare in motionless silence. He was waiting for something.

Finally, hesitantly at first, Finnick raised his eyes to meet Nick's gaze. They stared at each other for several more seconds as the lawyer glanced between them uncomfortably. “What exactly—” she began to say, but Finnick interrupted.

“Take a hike, toots,” he said without looking at her.

“Mr. Finnick, as your lawyer, I don't advise—!”

“ _I said beat it!_ ” he snapped, jabbing his thumb toward the door. “I'll see you in court,” he added, turning his eyes back to Nick, who leaned his elbow on the table but refused to abate his steady gaze.

The lawyer huffed and moved to the door, heading out and shutting it behind her.

“There's no going back from this point, Fin, you know that” Nick said.

“Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of...” Finnick retorted, his paws coming to rest on his knees.

“This is the crossroads,” Nick said, “You have to make a choice what direction your life is going to take. You need to decide, right now, in this room, whether you're going to keep on being a drug peddling lowlife who only serves his own greed, or if you're going to continue on the path you started today when for once in your life, you did the right thing.”

Finnick averted his eyes to the floor, but both his ears were inclined toward Nick.

“I know how it feels to make that choice,” Nick said quietly, casting a brief glance at the two way mirror.

“Yeah? You ever faced a rap for accessory to murdering five cops?” Finnick shot back, frowning at him.

“No, but when I met Judy, I had to make the same choice you're facing right now – whether to do the right thing or not. I made the right choice,” he said, his eyes fixing on Finnick again.

He continued, leaning forward, his voice dropping,“You're not going to walk on this one, Fin, regardless of what you do or don't say. That's not what matters here. What matters is whether you can wake up tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after, and look at yourself in the mirror and be okay with the animal looking back at you. The question is, are you going to be a dope dealing gang banger who sells out his friends and lets this whole city descend into Hell to make a buck? Or are you going to be the guy who faces up to what he's done and tries to make it right? I know who I'd rather be; I still think I know, deep down, who _you_ want to be.”

Finnick sat motionless and stared for a long moment. Finally, he buried his face in his paws and slouched forward, his ears drooping.

“So, tell me, Fin,” Nick said, his voice taking on a surprisingly gentle tone, “How did we get to this point?”

There was another long silence as Finnick composed himself, during which Nick moved his chair even closer, leaning his forearms on his knees to bring his face closer to Finnick's level. Finally, with a quiet sigh, and a slump of his shoulders, Finnick drew himself upright and looked at Nick. “When you ran off with Hopps, obviously I couldn't run most of the cons we used to do,” he began, his voice low, “I actually looked around for someone else who'd play your part, but funny thing, I couldn't find anyone I trusted enough to do it.”

Nick furrowed his brow almost imperceptibly at that, interlacing his fingers as he listened.

“I decided maybe I should follow your lead and go straight myself. That's when I hit on the idea of starting a limo company – maybe the idea came to me when you told me about the Nighthowler case,” Finnick said, seeming to relax somewhat, as if he was buying into the illusion that he and Nick were the only ones present, “Anyway, I tried every bank in Zootopia, but nobody would lend me the cash. I almost gave up, but then a buddy of mine mentioned I should talk to Landon Graves...said he'd probably front me the money.”

“Graves? The former leader of the Blood Fangs?” Nick said, his ears perking.

Finnick nodded. “Long story short, I met with him and he agreed to loan me the money. I told him I was goin' straight – I didn't want no strings attached outside the contract we made. He agreed, so long as I'd be willing to at least give priority to his guys for rides. Sounded legit enough to me.”

“Go on,” Nick said, listening with keen interest.

“Things were goin' along fine until just after you got shot. I was goin' off at the bar one night about the bastard that shot you, and a couple of Blood Fangs heard me, grabbed me and told me I was goin' to see the new boss, and he wasn't gonna be happy. They took me to Jack. He told me he owned my ass because of my debt to the Blood Fangs...”

“So, what happened to the old boss?” Nick asked.

“That's what I asked before I got there…they told me Jack busted into a big meeting of all the high up Blood Fangs with a bunch of his guys armed with assault rifles, and he rammed a machete through the top of Graves' skull...killed him right there in front of everyone! He said he was the new boss, and anyone didn't like it could join the old boss.”

“Yeah...that...that sounds about right,” Nick said with a look of disgust.

“But when he heard I was your friend, he acted all broken up about what happened, said it was an accident. He told me he was an old friend of yours, too. Said he'd make me an underboss in the organization, and if you survived, he wanted to try and get you in too. That's why he had me slip you some H – he told me he wanted to force you out of ZPD and get you back in the fold. He...he always talked so smooth like he cared about you, wanted to save you from what was coming...”

Nick's ears shot straight up and he leaned forward even further, clasping his paws over his knees, “Save me from what, Fin?! What is Jack planning?”

Finnick hesitated, looking at the mirror briefly, then back at Nick. He sighed, running his paw over his face and down his muzzle, a look of horrified clarity washing over his features as he seemed to suddenly realize the enormity of what he had become ensnared in.

“He...he's planning to use Harbinger as a weapon, and he's gonna to arm up all his guys with a huge shipment of military weapons on its way from Serpentia,” he said, his voice low and shaken with emotion, “He's gonna kill everyone at City Hall, from Mayor Dalmore down to the receptionist by flooding the air system with concentrated H-gas...then he's gonna turn Harbinger on the city and cause total chaos...while ZPD is scrambling to try to get a lid on it, he'll use his private army to hunt down and kill every last cop in Zootopia...”

In the observation room, Judy and Wolfram let out a collective gasp of horror. “Hornady's computer had data on it showing they were weaponizing Harbinger as an aerosol,” Wolfram said, a grim scowl settling over his features, “But there was nothing about what they planned to do with it... _this is just_...”

Nick's eyes went wide as saucers. His mind raced, his ears flattening back with the sheer horror of the notion. “That's _totally insane_...” he breathed, “How the hell did he get his paws on Serpentian military equipment?!”

“He has friends in the SSA... _corrupt friends_ willing to sell off all kinds of military shit under the table,” Finnick said, a grim expression washing over his features, “It's coming on a cargo ship that's due to arrive tomorrow night.”

“I'm betting that he has the weaponized Harbinger, but no delivery system” Nick said, looking pensive, his fingertips drumming on his knee, “If memory serves, the Serpentians are known for being rather fond of chemical warfare...I'm guessing the delivery systems are part of the little care package they sent?”

Finnick nodded, “Yeah, he got a couple of gas grenades along with the sample shipment – the one that included the guns he used on your pals. The full shipment is gonna have a few different options for H attacks...”

“Fin, listen to me, you have to tell us everything you know about the ship and about where Jack is holed up...” Nick said, unable to keep a hint of desperation from seeping into his voice, “We have to stop him or thousands will die...maybe _hundreds of thousands_...”

“His hideout is a warehouse on the docks...the Blood Fang Posse has the port completely locked down...” Finnick said, resting his paws on his knees, “They bought off everyone who wasn't already with them, and killed anyone who refused to be bought. The only guys working down there who aint Blood Fangs is the Customs guys, and he's got 'em chasin' ghosts, 'cause every dock worker is in his pocket.”

“What about the ship? Do you know the name?”

Finnick furrowed his brow, staring into space for a moment. Finally, he snapped his fingers and looked at Nick, “The Dragon's Breath!”

“And the building number of his hideout?” Nick said, pulling out his notebook and scratching down what Finnick told him.

“Building thirty two, by the cranes...he chose that one so they could sneak the weapons inside quick before anyone could see,” Finnick said, staring at Nick with a stricken expression, “Nick... _listen to me_ , you guys don't stand a chance...there's gotta be two hundred or more of his guys and they're armed to the teeth, even without all that army gear that's coming...”

Ignoring Finnick's last comment, Nick jumped up from his seat, throwing open the door to the observation room and holding his notepad out to Judy. “Carrots! You guys better get on this quick,” he said, glancing back at Fin, “It'll have to be a huge operation if we're going to take these bastards down before it's too late.”

Judy nodded, taking hold of the notebook and regarding Nick with a look of grave concern. “I'll call Mundi and get him to send the Triple S to stake out the port,” she said, turning to Wolfram.

“Right, we'll need to know their setup in detail before we can finalize an ops plan. In the mean time, I've got some contacts I can call at the Customs and Immigration Service...if we get them to help us, when we take down Hargrieve, they can stop the ship and search it before it reaches the pier,” Wolfram said, crossing his arms over his chest, “No warrants necessary.”

“I'll drop Finnick in lockup and meet you guys in the conference room in Zooicide so we can put together a briefing for the Chief,” Nick said, turning back into the interview room.

Judy and Wolfram nodded, quickly departing.

Nick pulled the tiny set of handcuffs Finnick arrived in from his pocket. “Turn around,” he said flatly. Finnick did as he was told and nick snapped the cuffs in place. He led Finnick out of the room with a paw around his collar.

They walked in silence to the door of Finnick's cell. Nick opened it, standing Finnick in the opening.

“Bend forward and spread your footpaws,” Nick said in the same flat, emotionless tone, “When the cuff comes off, your paw goes on your head and you don't move, get me?” He unfastened the cuffs and removed them. Finnick stepped further inside and Nick slammed the door behind him, turning the lock. Without another word, he turned and began to walk away.

“Nick, _wait!_ ”

He halted, but remained motionless, his paws thrust into his pockets.

“Nick, I'm sorry... _I never_ _wanted_ _all_ _this_...” Finnick said, clutching the bars and staring at Nick's back, his tone low and faltering with emotion, a rare thing for the hard edged fennec fox.

“ _Well you sure fucked up, then, didn't you?!_ ” Nick snapped, his muzzle curling into a snarl as he shot Finnick a deadly look.

A pained expression crossed his features and Finnick lowered his eyes to the floor, pressing his forehead against the bars. A long, uncomfortable silence fell over them.

“I need you to understand something, Finnick,” Nick said in a low voice, breaking the silence at last.

Finnick looked up at him, but said nothing.

“I've never loved anyone as much as I love her,” Nick continued, his gaze fixed on the exit door at the end of the corridor, his voice hushed in the hollow silence of the cell block, “I've fallen for girls before, as you know...but it was never _anything_ like this. I love Judy more than life, Fin...she's in my blood... _she's_ _in my soul_...and partly because of you, I almost lost her.”

Finnick listened in pained silence as he clutched the bars, his ears drooping.

“But you're the closest thing I've ever had to a brother,” Nick said, his tail jerking back and forth with the effort to master his conflicting emotions, “There was a part of me that wanted an excuse to shoot you dead in that alley, but there's another part of me that desperately wants a reason to forgive you.”

Finnick's ears shot upright and he furrowed his brow in confusion, his muzzle parting for a few moments before he managed to form words. Nick was right; for a long time, they were brothers in all but blood. Now, Nick had every reason in the world to hate his guts. He wondered if forgiveness could ever be possible after what he'd done, though he deeply needed it to be. “What do you want me to do, Nick?” he asked in a voice broken with emotion.

Nick shot a hard glance at his erstwhile friend, studying him for a few moments. “Stand up and own what you did,” he said, “Plead guilty to all charges, and then I'll know I can trust you. If not, I can't risk having you in my life, because I won't risk any harm coming to Judy...not even for you.”

“They might put me away for life, Nick,” Finnick said quietly.

“Then for the rest of your life you can wake up, look at yourself in that little mirror in your cell, and know you did the right thing,” Nick replied, “Believe me when I tell you, I've learned that integrity is the one thing nobody can ever take away from you. If you sacrifice it for something else you think is more valuable, you'll probably lose both.”

“That doesn't make it much easier.”

“Nobody ever said integrity was easy,” Nick said with a sigh, “Just that it's priceless.”

“Yeah...” Finnick said, seeming to mull over Nick's words for some time. Finally, a faint smile crept across his muzzle and he looked up, “You're a hell of a guy, you know that, Nick? Be careful out there.”

“See ya 'round, Fin,” Nick said quietly, walking away down the hall until he disappeared through the door at the end.

-~x0x~-

Within two hours, Nick, Judy, Mundi and Wolfram were gathered in Bogo's office as he read over the case file with a growing look of shock and concern graven on his features. They stood in silence as Bogo finished the last document, closing the file and removing his glasses, setting them aside on his desk. He stared blankly for a moment, then turned to them with a furrowed brow. “You do understand what this operation is going to take, don't you? You're asking me to go to war...” he said, his voice subdued.

“It seems to me, sir,” Wolfram replied, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the back wall, “That war is coming our way whether we like it or not...we didn't start this fight, but we sure as hell have to finish it, or it's going to finish _us_ along with the whole damn city.”

“We already have the Triple S watching the site, and Detective Wolfram has begun a preliminary ops plan,” Mundi said, his tone as grave as Bogo's, “Once we have the intel from the Secret Squirrels, we can finalize the plan.”

“Wilde, you know this Laughing Jack character...what's your assessment? Is there any alternative course of action?” Bogo said, turning to Nick.

Nick stood with one arm across his chest, the other stroking thoughtfully at his chin. He opened his eyes and met the Chief's gaze before letting his arms drop to his sides. “There's no reasoning with him, intimidating him or even understanding him, sir,” Nick said, “Because there is no rational reason behind what he does...he doesn't care about anything, or anyone, including himself. He just wants to burn the world and dance in the ashes. The only thing that's going to stop him is uncompromising brute force.”

Bogo crossed his arms, closing his eyes as if weighing the situation in his mind. “Fine,” he said at length, regarding them with a resolute stare, “I'll be damned if I sit back and let this bastard start his own private war against law and order in my city. You have free reign, Lieutenant – whatever resources you need are yours. Brief me when the plan is complete. You and Detective Wolfram are dismissed – Hopps and Wilde, stay a moment please.”

Wolfram and Mundi nodded and headed for the door. Wolfram patted Nick's shoulder as he passed, flashing a congratulatory smile.

“As for you two, due to your untimely demise, I think it's best you stay at the station again tonight,” Bogo said, folding his hooves in the middle of his desk, “If Hargrieve and his gang believe you're dead, it's best we keep it that way. I understand you've commandeered the couches in the lounge up in Zooicide?”

“Yes, sir,” Judy said, “They're pretty comfortable, actually. Clawhauser brought us some blankets and pillows.”

“Good,” Bogo said, looking at them with a rather grim expression, “The sooner we get this case wrapped up, the sooner we can get the two of you out of the precinct and back to your homes. Oh, and, since you're up there, would you mind confirming that the security camera in that room is still working?” He punctuated his question with a suggestive perk of his brow.

Judy felt heat rising rapidly in her ears as she thought about the night they spent there together previously, when she'd fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder with her paw entwined with his. “ _There's a_ —I mean, yes sir, we'll check it for you...since we're there...” she stammered.

Nick rolled his eyes and suppressed a smirk.

“Excellent,” Bogo said, sliding the case file back to the middle of his desk and opening it once again, “Dismissed.”

-~x0x~-

The remainder of the morning and most of the afternoon had been consumed by the inevitable mountain of paperwork a case like this one required. At about four, Nick had excused himself to call Victoria.

“Two days ago, I called to tell her to ignore the report of my death that was going to be on the news,” he had observed, “I feel like tomorrow's operation warrants another call.” By half past five, he hadn't returned.

Judy pushed her chair back from the cubicle she was working at and stretched her arms above her head, regarding the clock on the wall of the Zooicide office with an expression of mild annoyance. Nick had a history of shirking paperwork, preferring the excitement and personal interaction of street policing to the mundane demands of file work, and it seemed this tendency was cropping up again.

Wolfram, who was pouring over floor plans and site maps of the port with Mundi at a large table not far away, noticed the gesture and the expression and piped up. “Why don't you take a break, Hopps? You've been at it for hours; you deserve a rest,” he said.

She smirked at him, interlacing her fingers and flipping her paws to crack her knuckles, “What about you two?”

“Haven't you heard?” Wolfram replied with a wry smirk of his own, “No rest for the wicked, so we're out.”

“Hey, speak for yourself, Eli!” Mundi retorted.

“Go ahead, we're almost done,” Wolfram said with a nod.

Judy leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling tiles as her head flopped back and her arms drooped to her sides for a moment. “Okay,” she said at last, “Twisted my rubber arm.” She rose from the desk and headed for the exit with a wave over her shoulder.

She jumped back with a start when she almost ploughed into Nick at the doors leading out of Zooicide. When she had recovered, she put her paws on her hips and tapped her footpaw, regarding him with the same look of mild annoyance she had cast at the clock moments before. “And where exactly have you been, probie?” she asked, unable to keep a faint smile from curling her lips at the way his face lit up when he saw her.

“On my way back from calling my mom, Clawhauser asked me to help him out retrieving some records from the basement,” he said with a grin, “You know I can't say no to that face.”

“Hmmm, a likely story,” she said, “And here I thought you were just goofing off to avoid paperwork.”

“Madam, I am deeply offended by that highly plausible conclusion,” Nick said, stepping aside to let her exit into the hall with him, “But no, we got stuck – some files tucked away where we can't reach, and a bunny like yourself is just the right fit to get them. Mind coming with me?”

She chuckled in response, giving a shrug, “Okay, sure, why not?”

He led her to the elevators, hitting the B1 button and clasping his paws behind his back. She could see his reflection in the polished steel. There was a faint smile curling his muzzle and he tapped his right index finger against his palm in an erratic rhythm. When he cast her a furtive glance and quickly looked away when she noticed, she knew something was up.

He led her down the winding basement corridors and stopped in front of a nondescript steel door marked 'Utilities.' Strangely, she could hear the faint tones of music wafting from within. He paused a moment, then opened it and stepped in, moving aside with a flourish of his paw to reveal the interior.

In the center of the spacious, dimly lit room, its walls lined with pipes, gas meters, and boilers, stood a round table and two chairs liberated from the staff lunch room. A gray woolen fire blanket had been draped over the table as a makeshift table cloth, and two place settings were neatly laid out. Sheets of legal size copy paper served as place mats, upon which two take out boxes of stir fry noodles, complete with chop sticks, had been placed. Beside each setting was a jam jar, rescued no doubt from the lunch room recycle bin, cleaned out and run through the dish washer, and a length of paper towel neatly folded. In the center of the table, jammed into the neck of a soda bottle rescued from the same bin as the jars, a solitary emergency candle cast a romantic, flickering glow. Street lights and moonglow streamed in through the narrow window set high into the back wall, flooding the room a soothing, diffuse light. A small portable radio sitting on a pile of boxes nearby was playing sultry jazz music.

Nick moved to one of the chairs, tugging it back, “Your seat.”

She covered her mouth with her paws, moving slowly through the door with a huge grin spreading across her muzzle. She sat down in the offered chair, looking up at him, “Nick, this is just incredible...I can't believe you did all this!”

“Fangmeyer and Clawhauser helped,” he said, moving to the seat opposite hers and sitting down, “It's not the Igloo, I admit, but I feel as though the likelihood of spiked drinks or assassination attempts is significantly less...not to mention this is one of the only rooms in the building without any security cameras...”

She burst into a melodious laugh, pulling her 'napkin' from the table and laying it across her lap, “You've thought of everything! What more could a girl ask for?”

“Hmm, well how about a little bubbly?” he said, leaning over and pulling a plastic ginger ale bottle from an old tin mop pail filled with ice cubes. He looked over the bottle with an air of mock discernment, “Ahh, it's a sixteen...an excellent year!” With a flourish, he unscrewed the cap and filled her jar with the fizzy amber soda, proceeding to fill his own before returning the bottle to the bucket.

She chuckled again, opening her chopsticks and breaking them apart, rubbing them together to smooth them out. Nick did the same and they reached out to tap their sticks together before digging in. The noodles were hot and fresh; Nick's timing, as usual, was impeccable. They fell into lighthearted conversation, completely forgetting for the moment the mortal danger hanging over the whole city. Somehow, alone in the boiler room, they managed to create the illusion they were the only mammals in the world.

“You know, I don't know how you do it,” she said when the meal was nearly finished, “You scrounge up office supplies and recycling, order take-out noodles, set it all up in the boiler room and somehow manage to make it add up to the perfect date.”

He swallowed a hearty mouthful of the noodles and grinned at her, admiring the way the gentle glow of the candle light played over her lovely features. “Well, it isn't quite perfect yet,” he said, setting down his chopsticks and leaning closer to her, his forearms resting on the table, “It's still lacking something.”

“What could possibly be lacking?” she asked with a smile, taking a sip of ginger ale, “It seems you've thought of everything.”

“Well, as I recall, I still owe you a proper dance...” he said, resting his chin on his paw, “If you're willing, of course.”

“Oh yes, I certainly am,” she said, setting her napkin beside her nearly empty box of noodles.

“Perfect,” Nick said, a grin spreading across his muzzle. He suddenly pulled out his phone, quickly looking at it before slipping it back into his pocket. Judy regarded him with a quizzical tilt of her head, her ears perking up. He merely held up his index finger.

The song playing over the radio faded away, and the voice of the announcer came on. ' _This is ZJKZ radio_ _–_ _smooth listening all night long. We've got a blast from the past here by very special request. This is Moonlight Serenade, by_ _The_ _Glenn Mauler Orchestra, and this one's going out to Judy with love from Nick.'_

The sultry, wafting, grainy melody of clarinet and saxophones began to waft from the radio, flooding the room with a slow, soulful tune. Nick rose from his seat, offering Judy his paw with a warm, loving smile. She placed her paw in his, moving close and slipping her other paw up his other arm to his shoulder.

“Lift me and dance me close,” she said, her voice hushed, her eyes glowing in the candle light.

He knelt and lifted her into his arms, swaying her with the sensuous melody as she slipped her arms around his neck and nestled her cheek against his. He returned the gesture, nuzzling her softly as he slipped one arm under her for support, the other bringing his paw to rest in the small of her back, just above her perky fluff of a tail.

They swayed together in contented silence for several moments before Judy tilted her chin up to whisper to him, “How did you get to be so perfect?”

He snorted softly, snugging her a bit closer, his eyes closed as he swayed them around the floor in time with the music. “I'm the farthest thing from perfect, Carrots,” he said, his voice a breathy whisper, “You know that better than anyone.”

She shook her head, slipping her fingertips up his neck to gently spread them through the fur at the back of his head. “You're perfect for me,” she said in the same whisper, “I can't figure out how you didn't get snatched up by some vixen before I ever met you.”

“I was never really myself until I met you,” he replied, turning and dipping her, which elicited a melodious giggle that sent a thrill up his spine.

“I never knew what love could be before I met you,” she said with a smile, “It's not what I expected.”

“Oh?” he said, lifting his paw to tenderly stroke her ears, which she had folded down her back, “How so?”

She drew back, caressing his cheek with her paw and gazing into his emerald eyes. “You're the best friend I've ever had...you constantly make me laugh...you support me, even reign me in sometimes when I'm out of line, _but_...” she said, smiling devilishly as she nuzzled under his chin, planting tender kisses along his jawline, “You're also gorgeous and sexy and utterly charming, and you drive me absolutely wild...”

A soft moan escaped his parted lips as he tilted his head to further invite her sensual ministrations, his paw cupping around the back of her head, his fingertip caressing the base of her ear. His heart thundered in his chest as he felt her lips, tongue and teeth alternately teasing their way down his neck. He felt heat rising in him, his tail slashing the air as a weakness came over his knees, causing him to brace himself against the wall, gasping out a needful sigh.

“Being in love with you is more wonderful than I could have ever imagined,” she said, offering him a little assistance in bearing her weight by slipping her legs around his middle and giving a gentle squeeze.

“I love you so much, Judy,” he breathed, offering a soft nuzzle before he gently pressed his forehead against hers, “I think we should stop before I run out of self control...there's precious little left as it is.”

She chuckled softly, stroking her paws over his head, caressing the bases of his ears before she slipped them around under his chin and drew him into a tender, passionate, albeit brief kiss. “I love you too, Nick...and I'm sorry,” she said with a sheepish smile, “You're not the only one whose self control is being tested. You're right of course...I wonder if you're as tired as I am. I feel like three hours of sleep doesn't cut it.”

“Mmmhmmm,” he said, keeping his eyes closed, drinking in her scent and the gentle weight of her body pressed so close against him, trying to cling to that perfect moment as long as possible before it was gone, “Big day tomorrow...we should turn in early.”

As the song ended and changed to another, he set her onto her footpaws again, opening his eyes and enjoying the lovestruck smile she was wearing.

“Want me to help you clean this up?” she asked, glancing at the table.

“Clawhauser and Fangmeyer insisted on doing it themselves. Meet you in the lounge in a few?” he said, slipping his paws into his pockets.

She nodded, “Okay, see you there.”

The span of twenty minutes found them in the Zooicide lounge. The two couches that comprised their makeshift beds stood with their armrests touching at right angles to one another. Nick and Judy had set their pillows there, permitting them to talk more easily.

 Judy was tucked in with her covers pulled up and her arms resting over top as Nick, clad only in his boxers, strolled to the door and flicked off the lights, plunging them into near complete darkness. She heard him shuffle over and climb under his covers, feeling a puff of air on the tips of her ears as he flopped his head onto the pillow. A long silence intervened before Judy reached up and began gently caressing one of his ears between her fingertips.

"Mmmm...what're you up to now, Carrots?” he asked, a drowsy slowness already seeping into his words.

“Wishing I could be closer to you, but this'll have to do for now,” she said, rubbing a bit at the base of his ear before dropping her paw back onto her stomach.

“Well, at least we managed to get through an entire date without anyone trying to kill us,” he said with a faint chuckle, “Small victories.”

“Small victories,” she agreed. She let out a long, contented sigh, letting her eyes slip closed, “Night, Slick.”

“Sweet dreams, Fluff.”


	21. Chapter 21

Nick took two deep, slow breaths, his thumb resting on the safety switch of his carbine. A frozen moment passed before a loud beep sounded and three targets flipped toward him. He snapped the muzzle up, rapidly lining up the holographic sight reticule and squeezing off two rapid shots per target. The sixth round locked the bolt open, and without missing a beat, he flicked the safety back on and dropped the carbine on its sling. Seamlessly, he drew his pistol and drilled the next target, which was at that moment rushing toward him from the back of the range, with two shots to the chest and one dead center of the head.

He smiled as the target stopped and the clatter of empty casings hitting the concrete floor rose to his ears. They had been at the range most of the day sighting in and practicing with the special weapons Andy had issued them for the raid on the port. Nick had chosen the Bushwhacker ACC, a modernized, short barreled take on the typical assault rifle, topped with a holographic sight. Judy had been issued the high tech Hyss Viper, a forty five caliber sub machinegun with an unusual wedge shape in front of the pistol grip. The slab sided, wedge shaped body housed a system that nearly eliminated all recoil, making it a perfect choice for a petit bunny.

Three rapid full auto bursts ripped through the air beside Nick as Judy perforated her target once again. He looked over to see her huffing out a breath, flicking the safety on and lowering the gun. She turned to him with a broad grin, a sparkle in her eyes.

“Nick!” she said, “This gun shoots so fast it's crazy, but it barely recoils at all...I LOVE IT.”

He chuckled softly, steadying his carbine against his plate carrier as he strolled over to her lane, a wry smile curling his lips. “I thought you would,” he said, “But the real question is, how well do you shoot with it?”

She punched a few buttons on the target carrier control panel and her target zipped from the twenty yard mark up to the firing line. There were two ragged, baseball sized holes in the center of the torso and the center of the head, each one created by multiple bursts of full auto fire.

Nick perked a brow, flashing a mischievous grin at her. “That's...that's pretty hot actually,” he said, leaning a bit closer to her, “I'm getting kinda turned on here...”

“Nick!” she giggled, punching him in the arm, “Cut it out!”

He chuckled quietly again before kneeling down in front of her, checking the straps and magazine pouches of her plate carrier to be sure everything was snugged up and nothing would snag. His brow knitted slightly as he fussed over her kit, double checking every clasp and ensuring the ultra light armour plate inside was centered properly, providing maximum protection to her vital organs.

“You seem a bit nervous,” she said with a gentle smile, “I am too...this is the most dangerous fight we've ever been in.”

“I'm not afraid to die for you, Judy, if that's what it takes,” Nick said, his voice hushed and his eyes downcast as he checked her shoulder straps, quickly adjusting one to make sure the weight was evenly distributed.

“I don't want you to die for me, Nick,” she softly replied, bringing her paw up to caress his cheek.

He raised his eyes, gazing into hers.

“I want you to live for me,” she said.

“I'm not afraid to do that, either,” he breathed.

She leaned in, tenderly caressing his lips with her kiss, their muzzles joining passionately as her arms slipped around his neck. He slid his arms around her middle, drawing her as close as their gear would allow as their kiss deepened and lingered, saying all they needed to say without words. They allowed themselves to be lost in that brief moment, knowing it could be the last time they had the chance to taste each other's kiss. When at length their lips parted, he nuzzled her cheek, keeping her close just a little longer.

She slipped her fingers through the fur at the back of his head, nuzzling him in return. “Come on, Partner,” she said with a faint smile, “Time to go to work.”

They quickly topped up all their magazines, cleaned up the targets and swept away the spent casings before heading out of the range. They proceeded to the elevators, heading upstairs to the bullpen where the mission briefing was due to start in five minutes or so.

When they entered the briefing room, they found the tables and chairs had been cleared out and the room was packed front to back with officers, some in patrol uniforms, some in the black tactical uniforms and gear of the SWAT division, even a navy blue uniformed contingent from the Customs and Immigration Service. There was a narrow passage down the middle of the room, so Nick and Judy strolled up to the front of the mass of officers, allowing them a view of the chalk board with its sketched map of the Port of Zootopia.

Detective Wolfram stood in front of the chalk board dressed in the same black uniform and plate carrier as the SWAT teams, a thirty caliber CLAW-H rifle mounted with a telescope sight slung across his chest. A mammal they didn't recognize, a red wolf dressed in a navy blue tactical uniform with a submachine gun slung in front of him, stood on the opposite side of the white board from Wolfram. The large portcullis with crossed rifles embroidered on his shoulder flashes identified him as a member of the CIS SWAT unit.

Wolfram checked his watch, casting a brief glance out the windows at the colours of the waning sunset. A few more officers filed in, then shut the door, indicating everyone was present. And indeed, it was just about everyone – they had called virtually every officer in for the operation, either for the field teams, or to staff the skeleton crew that would be staying to defend the precinct in case of a counter attack.

“All right, quiet down,” Wolfram said, looking over the crowd with a steely gaze, “For any of you that don't know me, I'm Detective Eli Wolfram, ZPD Zooicide. Lieutenant Mundi and I are the lead officers on this case that began as an investigation of the attempted murder of Officer Wilde, and turned out to be a hell of a lot bigger and a hell of a lot worse. You've all had the briefing package, and were given copies of the warrant for Jack Hargrieve's arrest on your way in, so you know the background.”

There was a rustling and murmur of comments from the mass of officers as they studied Jack's picture and the details of his arrest warrant. The warrant included anyone found to be assisting Jack or any members of the Blood Fangs and permission to search any premise within the port.

“What your briefing didn't include,” Wolfram continued, his muzzle set in a grim scowl, “Was what Laughing Jack plans to do with his boatload of guns and his weaponized Harbinger. In a nutshell: he plans to murder everyone in city hall, then turn Harbinger on the populace, and while we're busy trying to put a stop to the ensuing anarchy, he plans to slaughter every last one of _us_ with his newly equipped private army.”

A startled murmur rustled through the crowd as the bewildered officers exchanged words and worried glances. Nick crossed his arms around the butt stock of his carbine, looking over Wolfram's shoulder and studying the sketched map on the black board. Judy unconsciously moved a step closer to Nick.

“So, here's how this thing is going down,” Wolfram said, stepping aside to reference the chalk drawing, “Once the briefing is over, each of you will proceed to your designated staging area. There are three operational elements – Group One, Group Two, and Group Three, plus Lieutenant Mundi will be running the mobile command post as incident commander. At H-hour, Group One, consisting of patrol officers, will rapidly deploy to their designated posts and form a cordon, effectively cutting off the port from the city. Nobody gets in or out except us until this thing is finished. At the same time, pre-positioned snipers will take out any sentries with special tranq rounds that can be fired from conventional rifles. Group Two, consisting of four squads of SWAT troopers in Hellcat armoured trucks, will rush the perimeter and raid the port, announcing our presence and ordering the targets to surrender...they won't.”

A quiet chuckle rippled through the room at the certainty in Wolfram's voice.

“Group Three will consist of me and a group of SWAT officers from CIS,” Wolfram said, nodding to his companion on the other side of the chalk board, “So I'll turn over the floor to Inspector Cyrille Howles here for that part of the briefing.”

Howles, a red wolf of perhaps thirty with a placid, friendly expression and deep blue eyes, took a step forward, offering a smile and a nod in greeting. He was slightly shorter than the timber wolves in the room, with a toned but not overly bulky build and a striking fur pattern that blended tones of cream, tawny, rust and black. He pointed to an X drawn on the chalkboard with a sweeping line running from it to the narrows that marked the entrance to the harbour.

“At the same moment your SWAT teams move on the port itself, our group will launch a water and airborne raid on the ship, which will just be entering the harbour,” he said, showing the movements with his paw, “Once they're inside the sheltered waters, it makes it harder for them to run, and if they try to dump any contraband, we'll be able to recover it. Wolfram will be with me in one of the two choppers we'll be deploying—we'll sweep around the ship to clear any shooters from the decks while our boarding teams rush the ship in zodiacs and scale the hull with rope ladders. The ship, The Dragon's Breath, is of Serpentian origin, but what we don't know is whether the crew is involved in the smuggling, or if they're oblivious to what the cargo contains, so we need to be cautious in our approach. Once we're on board, the ship is under customs examination and it's going nowhere until we've searched every inch of it. Detective Wolfram will be assisting us in the operation, as he's intimately familiar with the case.”

“Obviously, the ideal situation is the bad guys surrender, we arrest them, seize their contraband and take them to jail, and then we all go for pints,” Wolfram said, picking up from Howles, “But I'm here to tell you, it _will not happen_. Laughing Jack Hargrieve is a murderous psychopath with zero regard for animal life. He will gleefully kill as many of us as possible. This is going to be a hell of a fight…probably the biggest fight of our lives. On that note, Chief Bogo is going to address you before we deploy.”

As if on cue, the side door to the briefing room opened and Bogo's towering form ducked through it. He was clad in a huge rifle plate carrier covered in pouches and he wore a ballistic helmet with a set of goggles on top. A gigantic ballistic shield hung from his left arm, a bullet proof viewing port set into the upper portion and a Zootopia PD crest painted on the front above 'POLICE' in big block letters. His holster contained the massive Raging Rhino revolver, its eight round cylinder chambered in .500 Magnum. He also carried a pistol grip shotgun in a scabbard slung across his back. He strode to the front of the room, standing between Wolfram and Howles and setting down his massive shield with a loud thunk. A quiet gasp and murmur went through the crowd at his entrance. The meaning behind his choice of kit was obvious to every officer in the room: he would be acting as breacher, the first mammal through the door, for one of the SWAT teams.

“Brothers and sisters,” he began, a spark of fire in his ordinarily dispassionate gaze, “Today, we take on the most deadly threat our city has ever faced. We are going up against a suspect who brutally and remorselessly murdered five of our comrades, and on several occasions, almost succeeded in murdering two others.”

He briefly glanced at Nick and Judy before continuing, “An attack on the police is an attack on the very fabric of society, because we are the guardians, the thin blue line that stands between order and chaos, between the rule of law and anarchy. This degenerate and his associates have struck down five of our fellow officers, but we will not falter. We are not mere individuals, not mere mammals; though each of us can be killed, we are a part of something much greater, something immortal and immutable. For every one of us that falls, more will rise up and stand in the gap. Today, _we stand in the gap_. Today, we are the right paw of justice to make these savages bow before the authority of the law. We will never give up, we will never relent, and _we will prevail_.”

A roar of approval went up from the crowd, several officers pumping their fists in the air. Nick couldn't help but smile at the chief's speech. He had long had a feeling that there was more to Bogo than his hard edged exterior suggested. Now he knew. He glanced at Judy; she was staring with wide, shimmering eyes, both tiny fists clenched in fierce determination. Judging by that look, Jack and his flunkies needed to be very afraid.

“Good luck out there; stay safe and bring your buddies home,” Bogo said, turning and giving a nod to Wolfram and Howles before heading out of the room. The officers began filing out, rapidly heading to their respective vehicles.

Judy turned to Nick with fire in her eyes, her lips drawn into a taut, grim line. “Time to make the world a better place, partner,” she said, holding out her fist. Nick chuckled and smiled as he returned her fist bump, turning and jogging out of the room behind her.

They rushed outside along with the other officers, everyone fanning out to climb into their respective vehicles. Bogo and the SWAT teams clambered into the hulking Hellcat armoured trucks, buttoning up the hatches behind them. Wolfram and Howles jumped into an unmarked black SUV that no doubt belonged to CIS. The roar of engines filled the evening air as virtually every car at ZPD was started at once.

Nick and Judy jumped into their cruiser, setting their weapons into the rack between the front seats and firing up the powerful engine. They fell in with the convoy that was rushing out of the lot, tearing through the streets with lights flashing, but sirens off.

-~x0x~-

“Watchtower, this is Longarm One, confirmed visual, five sentries. We can take them all at once, just give the word.”

The black reticule of the police marksman's rifle hovered over the grizzled warthog standing on the roof of one of the buildings near the edge of the port. He carried a compact submachine gun in his hooves as he paced back and forth, looking around nervously at intervals.

“All callsigns Longarm, this is Watchtower,” Mundi's voice came back over the radio, “Take 'em out.”

The sniper drew a deep breath, then slowly released it, the pad of his index finger feeling the trigger face of his rifle. The reticule came to rest just above the side of the warthog's head, compensating for the greater drop of the tranq round, and he committed to the trigger squeeze. A frozen moment passed before the rifle bucked in his shoulder, sending the dart hurtling toward its target with a sharp snap, the rifle's report stifled by the long suppressor attached to the muzzle. At almost the same moment, four other snipers fired at their own targets.

The dart found its mark, plunging into the flabby patch of hide above the warthog's collar. He barely had time to flinch before his eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled into a heap, rendered unconscious by the powerful drug contained in the dart. The scene was repeated on several other rooftops and crane decks around the perimeter of the port. The sniper rapidly worked the bolt of his rifle, chambering a fresh round, only this time it was a high velocity ballistic tip cartridge; the next shot, if it came, would be lethal.

“Longarm One, all tangos down.”

“All units, this is Watchtower; move out!”

The stillness of early evening was torn asunder by the guttural roar of engines and the high pitched wailing of sirens. From every direction, police cruisers rushed from darkened alleys to their positions around the port, led by four Hellcats screaming headlong toward gates in the perimeter fence. The cruisers screeched to a halt, forming a tight cordon that blocked every approach, while the Hellcats accelerated, ramming the chainlink gates and smashing them open with their heavy ram bars.

Judy slammed the brakes, skidding to a halt in position on the cordon. She and Nick grabbed their weapons, jumping out of the car and leveling them at the large gray warehouse that loomed up ahead of them. They were directly across from building thirty two, Jack's base of operations, and they could see Bogo's Hellcat halting with a loud squeal of its tires about half way between them and the building.

“ _THIS IS THE POLICE,_ ” Bogo's booming voice sounded over the loudspeaker, “ _WE HAVE A WARRANT!_ _EVERYONE COME OUT WITH YOUR PAWS IN THE AIR AND YOU WILL NOT BE HARMED! THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING._ ”

Several seconds of deathly stillness passed; it was just long enough for the faint hope of compliance to arise in the hearts of many of the officers on scene. That hope was shattered moments later as the thunderous roar of gunfire tore up the silence, lighting up the night with dozens of muzzle flashes as thugs swarmed from every corner and appeared at every window. A withering hail of bullets rained down on the armoured Hellcats, tearing up the asphalt around them.

“That went about as well as expected,” Nick said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he squeezed off rounds at the muzzle flashes coming from an upper storey of the warehouse.

“Less boo hoo, more pew pew!” Judy yelled, steadying her gun against the door frame of the cruiser and firing several rounds in rapid succession.

-~x0x~-

Wolfram clutched his rifle against his chest, ducking low as he dashed through the prop wash of the Nighthawk chopper that was at that moment revving its engine in preparation for flight. He grabbed the handle on the doorway, hauling himself up and plunking himself into the jump seat beside the opening. On the other side of the chopper, Howles did the same, fastening his harness and donning the headset that hung from the seat back.

“Let's roll!” Howles said into the headset mic, exchanging glances with the pilot and making a swirling motion with his finger.

The chopper shuddered, the scream of the engine getting louder as the pilot pinned the throttle, the rhythmic whipping of the rotors increasing in intensity. Wolfram steadied himself, jamming his footpaw against the door frame as he adjusted his body, facing out the open door way as the chopper lurched and rapidly left the ground far behind.

Another chopper loaded with CIS officers lifted off from a rooftop helipad across the street, leaping into the night, its nose tilted aggressively forward. They climbed just high enough to skim safely above the rooftops, hurtling toward the waters of Zootopia harbour. Wolfram leaned out, pressing his shoulders into his harness, the wind violently whipping through his mane and ears as he strained for a view ahead.

Just inside the mouth of the harbour, he could see the lumbering form of The Dragon's Breath slipping through the dark waters. He turned his attention to the buildings of the port spread out below; muzzle flashes burst from the windows and around the sea cans and vehicles surrounding building thirty two as the gun battle raged. He could see from the high vantage point that some of the officers in the cordon were also engaging targets with their patrol carbines.

The chopper dipped as they left the city behind and flew out over the waters of the bay. Moments later, the scream of high powered zodiac engines joined the thumping of the choppers as the wet teams launched from concealed positions along the waterfront. Wolfram tightened his grip on his rifle, flexing the fingers of his support paw and taking several deep breaths to steady his aim. The chopper skimmed lower, coming up along the port side of the ship and slowing its pace to a crawl, floating along about twenty yards from the railing and twenty feet above deck level. Wolfram scanned the deck, watching closely as various reptilian crew members all turned their attention on the choppers.

“This is the Zootopian Customs and Immigration Service,” Howles announced over the chopper's loudspeaker, “This ship is under customs examination; shut down your engines and prepare to be boarded!”

Just then, the prop wash from their chopper wafted over the deck and blew open the coat of one of the marine iguana crew members. Wolfram's heart sank; the lizard was wearing a tactical vest, and there was a machine pistol slung under his arm.

“ _GUN!_ ” Wolfram shouted into the headset mic, leveling his rifle at the iguana. “ _Don't you reach for i_ _t_ _,_ ” he growled under his breath.

“DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND SHOW US YOUR CLAWS!” Howles yelled into the mic, his words echoing over the deck of the ship.

As Wolfram steadied the reticule of his mid power scope over the lizard's head, he saw the creature's scaly lips curl back into a vicious grin. He delivered his reply to Howles' warning by whipping his machine pistol up and firing a burst at the chopper. The bullets buried themselves in the metallic skin of the aircraft with a brief drum roll of sharp thwacks.

Wolfram's retort was to hold the crosshair of his scope at the center of the lizard's chest and pump two high powered rounds into him. Blood burst from his back as the bullets found their mark, sending him sprawling on the deck in a heap.

Like a stick poking at a nest of angry hornets, Wolfram's shots stirred the crew on deck into a frenzy; nearly all of them pulled guns of various kinds from their jackets and opened fire on the choppers. The pilot hurtled the craft into a violent evasive maneuver, nearly causing Wolfram to lose his grip on his rifle. When the chopper steadied out again, he went to work; With rapid, precise shots, he began drilling the shooters, the high powered cartridge putting them down hard. The spent casings clattered on the deck of the helicopter, some rolling around and spilling out to fall into the sea.

From the chopper on the far side of the ship, CIS officers were hosing down the smugglers with automatic fire from assault rifles and sub machineguns as their pilot weaved and dodged, desperately trying to avoid letting any of the officers take rounds while at the same time protecting his vulnerable engines.

“ _MULTIPLE HOSTILES,_ ” Wolfram yelled into his radio, exhaling sharply and squeezing off a round that exploded the head of a green iguana hiding behind a sea can on deck, “ _WE'LL COVER YOU;_ _GET THOSE LADDERS UP NOW!_ ”

Far below, the zodiac teams launched the grappling hooks attached to their boarding ladders. The moment the hooks latched onto the railing of the ship, the officers threw themselves on, rapidly scaling the hull, their sub machineguns slung across their backs.

On deck, a yellow striped caiman wearing a tactical vest and camouflage cargo pants spotted one of the hooks, drawing a knife from his belt and rushing toward it. Wolfram halted that plan by drilling him through the throat with a perfectly placed shot. The reptile flipped backward in a spray of blood, crashing to the deck, his knife spinning uselessly away across the rusty plating.

In moments, the first of the boarding teams spilled over the railing, whipping up their guns and unleashing a withering hail of automatic fire on the smugglers' positions of cover. They poured it on, alternating fire while reloading to keep the maximum storm of lead battering their targets.

Alarm klaxons began screaming in the chopper as more rounds peppered the outer hull, the smuggler crew still managing to strike it with some of their fire despite the pilot's best efforts and the withering return fire coming from Wolfram and the boarding party now pushing forward along the deck of the huge ship. “We need to get down there so these choppers can bug out, or they'll be at the bottom of the harbour before long!” Wolfram said, reaching over to smack Howles on the arm, “You with me!?”

“Better than taking a swim, I'd say!” Howles said with a grin. Both canines reached back and grabbed the rappel lines anchored into winches on the ceiling, clipping them into the biners attached to the back of their harnesses.

“Put us over the bow!” Howles said to the pilot, who then lurched the chopper into a hard bank and hovered above the bow of the ship. Wolfram and Howles tossed out their lines, the black ropes dropping onto the deck some thirty feet below.

“One...two... _three!_ ” Wolfram counted the timing before they leapt from the chopper, ensuring their weight would counterbalance. The two officers plunged toward the deck, arresting their drop near the bottom by pulling on the trailing end of the ropes. Landing on their footpaws, they rapidly unhooked their lines and dashed to the nearest sea can, taking cover and opening fire. “Two off rappel!” Wolfram shouted into his mic, “All clear, choppers pull back, _go, go!_ ”

The two Nighthawks peeled off, sweeping wide, out of the firing range of the smugglers' guns.

Just then, the deck lurched violently, sending Wolfram, Howles and several other officers crashing to the rusty plating and sliding to the railings as the ship listed sharply to starboard before righting itself. There was a thunderous crashing below as some of the sea cans in the hold unhooked from one another and toppled in the sudden change of course. The low drone of the engines increased to a higher pitched roar, the ship's whole form shuddering violently.

“The bastards are trying to run!” Wolfram said, his eyes wide with shock as he looked at Howles, “We need to get to the bridge, NOW!”

“Lead on, Detective!” Howles shouted, scrambling up and dashing after Wolfram.

Wolfram weaved among the equipment and sea cans on deck, sprinting toward the command tower at the back of the ship. He dropped an empty magazine and slammed a new one home as he ran, pausing only to shoot a suspect who narrowly missed him with a shotgun blast from the top of one of the sea cans further along the deck. He drilled the iguana with two rounds in the chest and he toppled backwards off the sea can, crashing onto the lid of a nearby hatch.

They quickly reached the stairs leading up the side of the tower to the bridge, Wolfram leading the way, his rifle up in his shoulder. Howles followed close behind, gun at the ready. They reached the first landing, passing a door which Wolfram quietly checked and found to be locked. They continued upward, but they hadn't ascended three steps before the door burst open and a red iguana lunged out with a shotgun. He let loose a blast that ripped through the back of Howles' thigh, sending him crashing to the catwalk on his back with a yelp of agony.

Wolfram spun around and nailed the iguana with five rapid shots, sending him tumbling backwards down the stairs. Having dispatched the threat, he knelt beside Howles, who was gritting his teeth against the pain and attempting to stand.

“It's...it's not too bad...” Howles said, clutching his shredded thigh in his off paw while gripping his gun with the other. He growled in pain, collapsing backwards onto the stairs. His paw was soaked in blood when he pulled it away. “Shit,” he hissed, “Maybe I'm not going anywhere after all...”

Wolfram checked the wound while Howles kept watch. “Looks like it's torn up your muscle, but I don't think it hit any arteries...you got a field dressing?” Wolfram said, wiping the blood from his paw on his pants.

Howles nodded. “I'll be fine, just get up there and stop the cold blooded bastards before they manage to turn this tub around! I'll stay here and make sure nobody gets the drop on you from behind,” he said, a low growl in his voice as the pain seared his leg. “I'm seizing this whole fucking ship when this is over...” he added with a snarl.

Wolfram patted his shoulder, then continued up the stairs, his rifle muzzle leading the way. Two more flights of steel stairs led him to the top deck just outside the bridge. He could hear muffled shouting from within, and see the shadows of the bridge crew through the windows. He crouched low and crept slowly up to the door, his ears folded back and his head ducked below the line of the sill. He gripped the door handle with his right paw, fishing a flashbang from his chest rig with his left. Clenching the ring attached to the safety pin in his teeth, he wrenched it out, then rapidly opened the door a crack and tossed the stun grenade inside, slamming the door shut immediately.

A half beat later there was an ear shattering blast and a blinding flash of light from within; Wolfram threw himself against the door, bursting into the room. There were several reptiles standing on the bridge in officer uniforms, all reeling and clutching their heads from the powerful disorienting effect of the stun grenade. Three of them were armed; he brought his rifle to bear on a crocodile with a shotgun, drilling him with two well aimed shots before swinging his muzzle to a caiman with a pistol in his claw, delivering two more shots to the center of his chest. Across the bridge, a snapping turtle had begun to recover from the stun effect and was struggling to aim his pistol at Wolfram. Two well aimed shots to his chest plate failed to penetrate his tough shell, but a final shot to the face exploded the back of his head, toppling him backwards. He crashed onto his shell, rocking back and forth as a crimson pool spread rapidly from his shattered skull.

The captain, a hulking komodo dragon easily as tall as Wolfram, stood in front of the command chair and glared at the detective with a gaze as cold as his blood. He was dressed in a peaked cap with gold oak leaves, a white military style shirt and black trousers. On the console in front of him lay a small black box with a red switch in the center that Wolfram instantly recognized as a remote detonator.

Wolfram glared back into the captain's fire hued eyes. He slowly shook his head in warning, reading the lizard's intention in his defiant gaze. The pad of his finger rested on the trigger, millimeters from sending a bullet crashing through the komodo's skull.

Slowly, the captain's grim, scarred maw curled into a sinister smile. “ _Kakresh nyest ssyrashtah,_ ” he hissed in his native tongue. Though Wolfram didn't speak Serpentian, the phrase was common enough among the reptile nation to be instantly recognizable, even to outsiders: Death before dishonor.

He made a lunge for the detonator, but he was too slow. The rifle spat fire, bucking in Wolfram's shoulder. Crimson mist erupted from the side of the komodo's head, spattering the windows with gore. He crumpled into a heap, his maw gaping and eyes blindly staringas his life drained away onto the deck plating.

A vicious snarl from Wolfram was all it took to make the remaining unarmed crew members hit the floor with their claws on their heads. He proceeded to bind them with flex cuffs, their claws behind their backs. Grabbing the throttle lever, he shoved it into reverse until he felt the ship slow and stop, then set it to zero. After searching the control panels for a few moments, he finally located a button near the wheel with a symbol of an anchor on it and pushed it. A clamorous noise could be heard from the forecastle as the anchors plunged into the dark waters of Zootopia harbour. Wolfram breathed a deep sigh of relief, letting his eyes slip closed for a moment as he leaned on the control panel.

“Boarding teams, this is Wolfram,” he said, keying his shoulder mic, “Use extreme caution searching the hold...the ship is rigged with explosives.”

A few minutes later, Howles knocked three times before he threw open the door and hobbled in, his shredded leg wrapped up tightly in a field dressing. He leaned against the doorway for a moment, casting his gaze at the carnage surrounding him. “Damn, Wolfram!” he said at length, beginning with a low whistle, “Remind me to stay on your good side...oh, the rest of the crew have surrendered, by the way. Seems all the fight went out of them when the ship halted. Good work!”

Wolfram managed a half smile in return, keying his mic again, “Watchtower; boarding teams. We have the Dragon.”

Howles smiled and hopped on one footpaw over to a nearby chair, settling himself into it. “Well,” he said, leaning back with a long sigh, easing his wounded leg around until it was stretched out in front of him, “Seems a good night's work to me. I imagine your comrades on shore are wrapping things up about now...”

Wolfram's gaze was fixed on the port across the dark, shimmering surface of the bay, at the numerous muzzle flashes that were still lighting up the night and the distant sounds of gunfire still reaching his ears. He grabbed a set of binoculars that were resting on the window sill nearby and held them up.

As he looked on in horror, he saw the telltale burst and streak of an RPG firing from a rooftop, followed moments later by the gut wrenching vision of the engine compartment of a Hellcat exploding in a fireball, the front wheels blasting off, flipping through the air. His heart sank into the pit of his stomach at what he heard next over the radio.

_Chief Bogo's Hellcat is hit!_


	22. Chapter 22

The telltale thunderclap of the RPG firing made Judy flinch; it was a sound that had been forever seared into her memory by her near fatal experience at the farm. She watched with her maw agape and her heart struck with horror as the rocket buried itself into the APC's engine compartment, tearing it to shreds in a thunderous explosion. The hulking vehicle lurched backward, the front wheels flying off and spinning through the air.

Rage boiled up in Judy's guts, erupting from her throat as a scream of unbridled fury and grief. She braced her gun against the door frame of the cruiser, dumping a full auto burst that sent half the rounds in her magazine tearing into the kudu clutching the spent rocket launcher. Bullets tore into his flesh, shredding his torso as most of the rounds found their mark. He teetered on the edge of the roof for a moment before plummeting three stories and landing in a bloody, broken heap on the pavement.

Flames began dancing up from the pulverized front end of the armoured truck as tears began to sting the corners of Judy's eyes. She gritted her teeth, seething with conflicting emotion as hope and despair battled for primacy in her mind.

_This is Bogo! Higgins is hit bad. Cover us while we get out!_

Judy's breath caught in her throat as hope won out; she saw the back doors burst open and Bogo come charging out, his riot shield on one arm, his massive revolver clutched in the other hoof. He was followed close behind by Lucy Fangmeyer, who had Higgins slung over her shoulders, then several SWAT officers.

Fangmeyer had asked a personal favour of Bogo to be deployed with him – a move that baffled all of her co-workers, except Judy of course. Now she was scooting along behind Bogo firing a carbine one-pawed while carrying the badly wounded Higgins, who had been driving.

Bogo swung his shield toward the building, acting as moving cover for his team of officers and blasting at the array of gunmammals with his revolver. The deafening boom of the monstrous .500 magnum rounds echoed off the buildings around them. They rapidly made their way under intense fire to the cover of a sea can some twenty yards away.

_This is Bogo, we're pinned. Finish the assault! Get in there and stop the bastards!_

“ _SCREW THIS!”_ Judy shouted, her voice smoldering with fury, “ _We're going in!_ ”

Nick shot her a startled glance, his eyes widening and his heart clutched with sickly horror at the thought of his bunny plunging headlong into that maelstrom of death, “Carrots, are you kidding me? We can't—”

She shot him a look that made his hackles stand straight up as she swapped her magazine for a fresh one; he had never seen those soft amethyst eyes look so hard and fierce before. It was a look that could make a lion turn tail.

“ _Get in the car,_ ” she said flatly, her tone as steely as her gaze.

Nick swallowed hard, giving a hesitant nod before jumping into the passenger seat and slamming the door. He leaned out of the window, bracing his footpaw against the console and the carbine against the window frame with his support paw, swapping in a fresh mag.

Judy slammed the car into gear, then gripped the steering wheel so tightly he could see the muscles in her arm rippling and her knuckles standing out in sharp outline. She stuck her gun out the window, pushing it forward against the sling to steady it, then slammed down the accelerator, the car fishtailing and the tires screaming as the engine roared. They plunged through the smashed gate into the dock yard and Judy opened up on a group of mammals that was trying to sneak up on Bogo and his squad. Several of them crumpled in agonized heaps as the bullets tore through them.

Nick gritted his teeth, opening fire with short bursts from his carbine, his bullets ripping through several of Jack's goons that were darting between sea cans. He turned the muzzle upward, spraying at the muzzle flashes popping in the windows above the huge loading bay door that loomed ahead. As they rocketed past Bogo's position, he could have sworn he saw a look of shock and awe on the buffalo's face. But then again, it could have been a hallucination caused by the sheer terror induced by the car's continual acceleration and the rapidly shrinking distance between them and the roll up warehouse door.

Several rounds punched through the hood and roof of the car just before Nick ducked his head back in and Judy pulled back her gun. They rammed the door at full throttle, ripping through it and leaving a gaping hole in their wake. Judy slammed the brakes, wrenching the wheel around and bringing the cruiser to a screeching halt on the warehouse floor amid crates and containers of all kinds. The instant the car stopped, they threw open the doors and dove for cover.

A strange, deathly silence fell over them, even the shooting outside dying away. A few panting breaths intervened before the silence was broken by the sound of steps on a metal catwalk. For a time they were the only sound, then there was a pause, followed by a metallic clank.

“Well, well, well...do my senses deceive me, or do I have the sweet pleasure of a visit from my dear old friend Nicholas Wilde and his _dainty_ _little nugget,_ Judith Hopps? And you came all the way back from the grave to visit me, too – _you shouldn't have,_ ” Jack said, the last words coming out as a low growl as the unmistakable tones of his voice echoed through the warehouse.

Nick and Judy each crept to the edge of their respective cover, cautiously peering around the corners, being sure to keep themselves as much in the shadows as possible.

Jack stood on a catwalk above the warehouse floor, flanked on either side by a few of his gun toting goons. The source of the metallic clank they heard was immediately clear: he had a light machine gun resting on the railing, a large drum magazine fitted to the receiver. He was casting his gaze around the warehouse floor, apparently unaware of their exact location.

“Give it up, Jack!” Nick yelled, “Your little party's canceled; customs has your goodie bags at the moment, and I don't think they're gonna let you have them back.”

“Nicky, Nicky, _Nicky,_ ” Jack said, the sneer on his muzzle audible in his words, “Why are you so insistent on ruining all my fun? You should be the one lighting the match on this little bonfire I have planned...you said yourself you wished this town would burn.”

“That was a long time ago, Jack,” Nick said, unconsciously casting a glance toward Judy, “I decided to try and fix it up instead.”

“It's un-fixable, Nicky,” Jack said with a malicious grin, “Time to put it out of its misery.”

Suddenly, Bogo and his team, minus Higgins and the officer taking care of him, rushed in through the gaping hole created by the cruiser. Bogo roared with fury, his shield raised and his revolver held up against the edge as he fired, his shot blasting a massive hole in the chest of a coyote standing beside Jack.

Jack swung the gun on them, opening fire, his bullets ricocheting off the heavy armour of the ballistic shield. The warehouse lit up in a conflagration of gunfire as gang members popped out of every crevice to open fire on the cops.

“All units, this is Chief Bogo!” the buffalo yelled into his radio mic, “ _Breach and clear, breach and clear!_ ”

Nick swung his carbine around the corner of the sea can, unleashing a burst at Jack, narrowly missing him. A ram standing beside Jack fired back at Nick with a machine pistol. Nick dispatched him with a short burst to the chest that sent him careening backwards and toppling over the railing, plummeting to his death on the warehouse floor. Nick ducked back in cover, panting and taking a look around; his back was pressed against a container that formed the bottom of a line that was stacked so as to create a kind of staircase, the top container just below the height of the walkway. He moved to the edge and peeked around; there was a ladder toward the side wall of the building that led up to a platform at the end of the catwalk.

“Carrots!” he yelled across at her, “Time to take the high road!”

She looked over to him and nodded. Ducking around the container she was hiding behind, she fired a burst into the chest of a wolf that was trying to sneak up on her, then dashed across the gap that separated her from Nick. In one fluid motion, she bounded and planted her footpaw into his cupped paws, and with his help, launched herself up on top of the sea can. Without missing a beat, she dashed along, squeezing off a long burst of fire at Jack's position.

At the same moment, Nick ducked around the corner and dashed along the corridor formed by the containers, his rifle up in his shoulder. He drilled a goat that popped out around a corner with three shots to the chest, then threw himself on the ladder, scrambling up as fast as he could.

Seeing what they were up to, Bogo charged around a corner, firing rapidly as he closed with a group of thugs lined up behind a forklift. His team followed close behind, firing at shooters that appeared on their flanks. A panther made the grave mistake of stepping in front of Bogo; the chief slammed him down with the shield and trampled him, driving his hoof into the hapless cat's groin and knocking him cold with the bottom edge of the shield.

Judy bounded over the railing onto the catwalk, firing the last ten rounds in her magazine at Jack. He grabbed a goat standing at the railing firing at Bogo's group and tossed him between himself and Judy. The bullets tore through the goat's side and he collapsed onto the catwalk in a heap, his blood spreading over the steel plating and dripping off the sides. As her gun locked open, Jack swung the machinegun around at her, squeezing the trigger and sending a storm of lead her way. She avoided death by inches as she threw herself over the railing, falling onto all fours on the roof of the sea can just below the walk.

Jack's gun ran dry as Nick planted his footpaws on the walkway. The fox gritted his teeth, swinging his rifle up into his shoulder and firing rapidly at Jack as he dashed forward.

Tossing the machinegun aside, Jack grabbed the last of his thugs with him, a leopard in jeans and a dingy wife beater, and held him in front of his body as a living shield. As Nick's bullets ripped through the leopard's torso, Jack pulled out his revolver and started backing up and firing at Nick.

Nick continued firing as he bounded up onto one of the railings, dashing along it and leaping back and forth to the other one to avoid Jack's fire.

Jack's revolver clicked on a spent cartridge just as his back pressed against a door at the end of the catwalk. He dropped the leopard's bullet riddled corpse and ducked through the door, narrowly avoiding death as Nick slung his empty rifle behind his back and unleashed several rapid shots with his pistol. The bullets struck the center of the door as it closed.

Below, Bogo crashed into the forklift with his riot shield, bowling it over and sending the goons behind it scrambling. Fangmeyer tagged two of them with her patrol carbine as they attempted to fire back while retreating. Bogo dispatched the last one with a revolver shot that left a grapefruit sized hole in the wolf's back. He flew off his footpaws and slammed onto the floor, his gun clattering away into the shadows as he left a bloody crimson streak across the smooth concrete. Gunfire erupted from the left and right flanks of the warehouse as two more teams joined the fight.

“Flank teams, link up with us and push them out the back,” Bogo said into his radio, “Hellcat four, you in position?”

“Ten-four, Chief, we got the welcome mat rolled out back here and everything,” came the response.

Crouching at the door, Nick reloaded his rifle and swapped a fresh mag into his pistol before holstering it. Judy was by his side moments later, reloading her submachine gun and releasing the action, chambering a fresh round.

“Nick, we should wait for the SWAT team,” Judy whispered, seeing the expression of unadulterated hatred on his features. Nick was out for blood, and she knew his emotions, especially those pertaining to her, could be clouding his judgment.

He shook his head, his lip curled into a snarl, “He'll have escaped by then...he'll have some kind of contingency plan for getting away. I'll button hook, you go along the wall to the left, on three...”

“ _Nick!_ ” she hissed in protest, but it was too late. He burst through the door, bringing his rifle up immediately. She lunged in behind him and they found themselves enveloped in darkness. By the dim light spilling through windows at the far end of the room, they could see that they were in some kind of office filled with rows of cubicles and filing cabinets. The room was rectangular, the door they entered through set into a side wall at the corner. They began creeping along, ducking behind the cubicles as they moved parallel to each other, sweeping the room.

“You know, I'm slightly annoyed that you and your friends wrecked my little surprise, Nicky,” Jack said, his voice wafting from somewhere among the shadows.

“Yeah, not sorry,” Nick shot back, his ears swiveling to try to pin point Jack's location in the darkened room. He saw a shadow flit across the window and unleashed a burst, shattering the glass.

His shots were answered moments later by the blast of Jack's revolver lighting up the darkened corner of the room. Three shots came from three different locations as Jack moved and fired at the same time, each shot strobe lighting his wiry form with its devilish grin.

Judy unleashed a burst, narrowly missing Jack and instead perforating a filing cabinet near his head.

“The alternative is going to be _so_ sweet though, Nicky,” Jack said, his voice low and guttural, dripping with malice, “I can't wait to see your face when I slaughter your little bitch right in front of you. You know, I can smell her fear at this very moment...”

Judy lunged out, firing a long burst at the cubicle where Jack seemed to be hiding. He popped up from another one, however, and fired three shots at her. She screamed and crumpled as one of the bullets tore through her side just below her vest. Scrambling behind a filing cabinet, shed clutched her paw against her ribs as pain tore through her.

Nick roared with fury, lunging up from behind a credenza and dumping his magazine at Jack on full auto. Weaving and ducking, the hyena managed to escape by crashing through a door near the shattering window, disappearing into the stairwell.

Gritting her teeth against the searing pain, Judy felt the wound with her fingertips. Tears stung her eyes as she pushed into it, finding to her relief that it was only a grazing wound that didn't penetrate her chest cavity. Nick was at her side in an instant, terror in his emerald gaze as he lay his paw over her shoulder.

“Carrots, you're hit!” he breathed, laying his rifle on the floor and bowing his head to check the wound.

She shook her head, gasping and forcing herself to take a deep breath. “It's not bad...” she said, “Just grazed me. I'm fine.”

An agonized look washed over Nick's features. He opened his first aid pouch, pulling out a field dressing. As he began to unwrap it, the sounds of gunfire from downstairs petered out and the distant thumping of helicopter blades began to encroach on their hearing, growing louder with each passing moment. Nick stood up and looked out the window with a furrowed brow; he could see a small black chopper approaching fast from across the water.

“ _Damn it_ , there's Jack's contingency plan!” Nick snarled. He knelt down, looking into Judy's eyes, “Carrots, just sit tight and take care of that wound...I'm going after Jack.”

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, searching his eyes. Finally she grabbed his shoulder strap and pulled him into a brief but passionate kiss, drawing back a heartbeat later. “Go get him, Nick...” she said, her tone fierce, “But be careful. You _will_ come back to me, understand?”

“Yes, ma'am!” Nick said, flashing a roguish grin at her. He rose and dashed for the door, weapon at the ready, and disappeared into the stairwell.

Nick burst through the door. Keeping his muzzle trained on the flights above, he slowly crept his way along the wall, ascending the stairs. He strained his hearing, swiveling his ears to catch even the slightest sound. His breaths deep and steady as he forced himself to maintain calm.

Jack's form suddenly appeared over the railing, firing rapidly. Nick was forced to dive out of the way while shooting back. He landed on his side, his rifle spitting fire, the gunshots reverberating as a deafening echo off the concrete walls of the stairwell and the bullets biting at the edge of the concrete staircase. Jack vanished as instantly as he had appeared and Nick heard his steps retreating upward, followed by the slam of the exit door onto the roof being thrown open.

Gathering himself, Nick tore up the stairs after jack, swapping out the half magazine and dropping it in his cargo pocket, inserting his last fresh one into the rifle. The thumping of the chopper's rotors was extremely close now; Nick could even hear the skittering of roofing pebbles hitting the door at the top of the stairs, blown by the prop wash.

Nick front kicked the door wide open, lunging out with his rifle in his shoulder. The roof was broad and flat, its surface dotted with a veritable forest of HVAC equipment used to control the temperature inside various parts of the warehouse, no doubt to accommodate various kinds of goods. On the far end of the roof, he could see the chopper already sitting on its skids with Jack running toward the open side door. When the pilot spotted Nick, he pulled a pistol from his flight vest, taking aim.

Nick swung the hologram reticule onto the pilot's head, shattering his visor with a perfect shot that drilled through his skull, killing him instantly. He slumped forward on the controls, the rotors slowing as his paw fell from the throttle.

Jack kept running, grabbing a hold of the dead pilot's arm and releasing his harness; he was going to fly the chopper himself.

Nick took three quick, deep breaths, steadying his rifle on the edge of a tall air conditioning unit. He fired five rapid shots into the helicopter's engine, destroying it. A sputtering, churning sound escaped the housing along with smoke and flames as the rotors ground to a halt, rendering the aircraft useless. Nick dove behind another piece of machinery, creeping closer to Jack's position.

“You're finished, Jack!” Nick yelled, “We're rounding up your little posse as we speak. If you don't believe me, take a look at the back entrance.”

Jack dashed behind a large ventilation cage, peeking over the edge of the roof to the back side of the warehouse. Three storeys below, the small remaining group of Blood Fangs was surrendering to a squad of SWAT officers lined up around the back entrance.

“Just 'cause we're the only ones attending doesn't mean the party has to end, Nicky,” Jack said, punctuating his comment with a high pitched giggle, “ _So let's dance!_ ”

Nick attempted to push around the corner, but three rapid shots from Jack tore the side panel from the HVAC unit he was using as cover, grazing his arm and forcing him back around the other side. He gritted his teeth against the pain and dove across the gap to the next one, narrowly avoiding three more shots that tore up the gravel at his footpaws. He whirled around the far side, bringing his rifle up to where he'd seen Jack moments earlier, but saw nothing. Hesitantly, he crept forward, his muzzle fixed on the unit Jack had been using as cover.

“ _Surprise!_ ” Jack yelled, opening fire from Nick's right flank and laughing hysterically. One of his magnum rounds tore through the receiver of Nick's rifle, hopelessly destroying it.

Tossing the rifle, Nick ducked back, pulling his pistol and gripping it with both paws. He heard the telltale crunch of gravel behind him and spun around the corner, firing rapidly. He narrowly missed as Jack ducked behind another air conditioner.

Jack's hollow, guttural laughter sounded across the wide gap now separating them. “Ahhhh haaa, yes, now isn't this _FUN,_ Nicky!?” he said, struggling to suppress his gleeful, manic laughter, “This is what you really are… _a savage killer_...it's in your blood, my dear fox.”

“Shut up, Jack!” Nick spat back, “You don't know shit about me and you never did.”

“Don't I?” Jack said, his voice dropping slightly, “I know you're in love with that little sack of lunch meat downstairs...I know you'd do _anything_ for her...and I know what it's going to do to you when I kill her, Nicky. It's going to shatter your mind like glass. Oh, I have such plans for her, Nicky...I've spent so much time dreaming about so many ways to hurt her... _ways to make her bleed_...unless of course, you kill me first...”

There was a heavy crunching of gravel as Jack lunged out from his cover, opening fire in Nick's direction. Nick dove out, leveling his gun at Jack and unleashing a withering hail of gunfire.

“ _BASTAAARD!_ ” Nick roared, blasting at the weaving hyena with his service pistol. Bullets ricocheted around him as his foe fired back just as fast, even as they dashed headlong toward each other.

Jack ducked under a shot, closing the last few feet that separated him from Nick. He stuck his revolver up to Nick's face and pulled the trigger, but there was nothing except a loud click as the hammer slammed down on a spent cartridge. Dropping it, he whipped a stiletto from his sleeve, narrowly missing Nick's throat with a vicious slash. Nick didn't miss a beat, weaving out of the way of the knife and firing a hip shot that ripped through Jack's thigh.

The hyena reeled and screamed in pain, stumbling back a step and dropping the knife, but he suddenly turned and a double barreled derringer popped out from his other sleeve into his paw. The first shot sent a bullet ripping through the edge of Nick's left ear, but there wouldn't be a second; thrusting his gun out, Nick pressed the muzzle against Jack's wrist and fired, the blast shredding his flesh and sending the tiny pistol sailing through the air.

With a shriek of agony, the hyena stumbled back a step, but to Nick's shock, planted his footpaw and lashed out with a vicious slash of his good paw. He caught Nick off guard, slapping the gun from his paw and sending it sailing. It tumbled across the roof, landing several feet away.

Nick's moment of shock was punished with a crushing left hook to the jaw that made his ears ring. He stumbled back, but recovered just in time to dodge a vicious straight from Jack, slipping his elbow over Jack's arm and slamming it into his nose with a sickening crack.

Jack reeled, blood erupting from his nose, but managed to deflect a gut punch from Nick and smash him across the face with his mangled arm, splashing blood in Nick's eyes.

Temporarily blinded, Nick stumbled back, frantically attempting to wipe away the blood stinging his vision. He blinked rapidly, clearing his eyes just in time to see Jack lunging and grasping his throat, slamming him painfully onto his back on the gravel. Jack's malevolent grin broadened as he squeezed, attempting to strangle the life from Nick.

“This is better, isn't it, Nick?!” he growled, his lips curled into a broad, insane grin, “Nice and intimate, with my paws around your throat...I always knew I wanted to feel you die.”

Nick struggled, choking and straining to fight off Jack's vice grip. His vision began to darken around the edges, but he summoned his strength and pulled the half spent magazine from his cargo pocket, smashing it into the side of Jack's skull with a loud crack, leaving a bloody gash. The hyena released his grip, his head twisting aside from the force of the vicious blow, but he snapped back and lunged for Nick's throat with a gaping, drool dripping maw.

Nick barely managed to catch Jack's upper and lower jaws, violently twisting them in opposite directions. With a gruesome cracking sound, Jack's lower jaw dislocated; he screamed in agony, drawing back and clutching his muzzle. Nick punished his mistake with a vicious double kick to the gut that sent Jack sailing onto his back.

Snarling, Jack grasped his lower jaw in both paws and forced it back in place. He roared with fury and pain, turning just in time to dodge a savage high kick aimed at his face. He drove his fist into Nick's gut, then grabbed his ears and delivered a crushing knee strike to the face. Blood burst from Nick's nose as he stumbled back, shaking his head to clear the stars from his vision.

Jack unleashed a flurry of kicks and punches, landing a couple of blows to Nick's face and side, but the fox suddenly twisted, evading a kick and ensnaring it. He drilled his elbow like a pile driver right into the bullet wound in Jack's thigh, then grabbed his blasted wrist, twisting his arm around and snapping it at the elbow with a sharp blow from his forearm.

Jack staggered, screaming in pain and rage. Nick pressed his advantage; leaping into the air, he clasped his paws together and brought both fists crashing down on top of Jack's head, stunning him and bending him double before he snapped back and toppled. He collapsed on his back near the edge of the roof, clutching his snapped arm and mangled wrist against his chest with his good paw, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

Nick lunged for his gun, scooping it up. He was on Jack in a second, clapping the warm steel of his gun's muzzle against Jack's forehead. Panting heavily, his face bloodied, he grabbed the fallen hyena by the collar and pulled him close. Nick's lips curled into a vicious snarl, his teeth glinting in the moonlight, “ _You son of a bitch…!_ ”

Just then, Judy burst through the stairwell door and staggered up to them, leaning against an air conditioner. Her Viper was slung over her back, her service pistol drawn. Her breaths came in pained gasps as she held her pistol at the ready, her free paw clutching her now bandaged wound, “Nick! You got him!”

Her partner only cast a brief glance in her direction, then turned his hate-twisted face back to Jack. “You filthy _bastard_...you shot me, poisoned me, killed my friends,... _you tried to_ _kill_ _my partner! Gimme one good reason I shouldn't splatter your brains all over this_ _damn_ _roof!”_

Jack laughed through the wincing, his devilish red eyes gleaming as he stared back like a remorseless beast, “Go ahead, Nicky... _do it!_ Show me you're a killer after all, prove you've got it in you to be a proper savage! _SHOW ME!_ ”

Judy's gaze was fixed on Nick as she took a step closer, “Nick, _don't!_ Don't do it; you're better than this... _he isn't worth it_...”

Nick glanced at her again for a brief moment, “He almost killed you _four_ _times_ , Carrots...he deserves to die for that, if nothing else...”

Jack burst into a fit of manic, hollow laughter, “Ohhh now that's just too rich...All right...I tell you what...if you _don't_ kill me, I'm gonna make it my mission in life to hunt her down and make you watch while I _eat her_ _alive_ _right in front of you_ _–_ whatcha think of that, Nicky?”

“ _You shut up, you sack of puke!_ ” Judy screamed at him, “I'm not afraid of you!— _Nick_ , listen to me, _don't do this!_ He's going to prison for life if he's lucky; it's over, just cuff him and let's go home...”

Nick growled through gritted teeth, his ears flattened straight back. His finger was poised on the trigger, his muscles taut. A few breathless moments passed, Jack's death a mere hammer drop away, before he ground the gun's muzzle into Jack's eye, eliciting a cry of pain from the smarmy hyena.

“I ought to do the world a favour and put a bullet through your skull, _you_ _worthless,_ _degenerate_ _pile_ _of garbage,”_ Nick snarled, “But you know what? I'm not a savage, _I'm a cop_ , and on my _worst day_ I'm better than a death-worshiping piece of shit like you!”

He suddenly pulled the gun back and delivered a crushing head butt that knocked Jack out cold. The hyena slumped back and Nick rapidly flipped him over, fastening his wrists behind his back with handcuffs. He stood up, his gun still hanging at his side, and stared at the foe he had been a hair's breadth from murdering. A few silent moments passed before he cringed and rubbed his throbbing forehead, “ _Damn it_ , that always seemed way easier on TV...”

Judy reached him in two bounds and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. “I knew it... _I knew it_...” she sobbed quietly.

He put his free arm around her, closing his eyes and nestling his nose into the sweet spot between her ears, drinking in her scent and letting it drown out the world for a few moments. “It's over, Carrots...” he breathed, “ _Thank you..._ ”

She drew back just enough to gaze into his eyes with a quizzical expression, her paws still clutching the back of his uniform shirt, “For what…?”

“For getting to me when nobody else could...” he whispered, “For making me better than I was.” He hesitated, closing his eyes for a moment as he holstered his gun, “I...I almost...”

She shook her head, gently touching his cheek with her paw, wiping away a streak of blood with her thumb, “It's okay, Nick...you _didn't_ , and that's what matters. Being a good cop means you do the right thing; it doesn't mean you always have to like it.”

He heaved a shuddering sigh, wrapping his other arm around her, burying his nose in the sweet spot again. A smile slowly curled his bloodied lips as a feeling of intense peace settled over him. For the first time since he had been shot, they were no longer marked for death by a raging lunatic and his gang of murderous thugs. They had come through together, once again. So perfect was the bliss of that moment that he didn't even release Judy from his embrace when he heard Bogo's team coming through the roof access door.

“Bogo's coming,” Judy said, nuzzling under his chin softly, delivering a furtive, tender kiss, “We should probably stop...”

“Let him take my birthday away,” Nick said with a faint grin, pressing his nosepad a little more firmly to the top of her head, his arms squeezing just a hair tighter, “Nothing could make me let you go right now.”

“Dumb fox,” she said with a chuckle, holding him just as tightly.

“Nope,” he replied with a gentle shake of his head, “I just have my priorities straight.”


	23. Chapter 23

Six days had passed since the capture of Laughing Jack Hargrieve and the dismantling of the Blood Fang Posse. Six days of press conferences, arraignments, and most of all grueling police work, especially for the Zooicide division. The operation at the port had uncovered large amounts of evidence pertaining to several of Jack's other murders, including Landon Graves and Jonah Hawthorne, meaning the detectives were working even more overtime than usual following up all the leads.

A measure of normalcy had returned to the lives of the officers of the Zootopia Police Department, and yet despite having thwarted the most deadly threat the city had ever faced, there was a thread of tension that ran through the ranks. It was the unspoken thought in the mind of every officer, the duty yet to be discharged that hung over their heads and lent a previously unknown solemnity to every briefing and locker room conversation. At last the seventh day dawned, and the time had come to discharge that solemn duty. It was time to say goodbye.

At first, silence reigned, the immutable gravestones cloaked in stillness unbroken save for the stirring of fallen blossoms in the crisp, late spring wind. The sun was brilliant, the sky a vast field of blue, though the cool remnant of the night's mist still remained in the air. Faintly, the mournful wail and thrum of the bagpipes and the rhythmic snapping of the snares began to intrude into the silence.

Moving as one, the massed ranks of officers led by the pipes and drums marched along the road through the cemetery. The fall of polished hooves and sabaton clad paws cracked in perfect time with the booming rhythm of the bass drum. There were uniforms of many shades, from the navy blue trimmed in gold of the ZPD, to the green and tan of the Bunnyburrow Sheriff's Department, to the black tunics and white forage caps of the Customs and Immigration Service, but all marched in perfect unison, forming a solemn, unbroken procession that stretched ahead of the motorcade.

Five hearses carrying five flag draped caskets rolled to a stop at the graveside. The parade halted and formed ranks for the service. When all were in place, the Sergeant Major's sharp word of command caused all officers on parade to snap into a right turn, facing the gathered mourners surrounding five open graves.

From her place in the front rank, Judy caught sight of Nick, dressed in his crisply pressed navy tunic and trousers, standing by the hearse that carried Ramsay's remains. He still bore traces of the marks left by his pitched battle with Jack, not least the permanent semicircular chunk taken out of the edge of his left ear, yet his fur had been meticulously cleaned and brushed, and he glowed in the morning sunlight.

Every detail of his ceremonial uniform was perfect. His forage cap brim, pulled low over his brow, and the highly polished cap brass glinted in the sun. His badge and medal were polished with equal care, as were the sabatons that covered his toes and lent a metallic snap to his steps. His gold braided lanyard, draped over his left shoulder under his epaulet, hung in a perfect loop that ended in his breast pocket. Every crease of his uniform was razor sharp and there was not a wrinkle or hair to be seen anywhere. His paws, clad in brilliant white gloves, were held tightly against his trouser stripes at the position of attention.

Outwardly his bearing was solemn and professional, but she could see by the grim set of his jaw that he was already breaking inside with the awful weight of the duty entrusted to him that day. A sharp word of command from Nick and the pall bearers under his command executed an inward turn, preparing to receive the casket of their fallen comrade from the hearse.

Moving as one, the five flag draped coffins were marched out and placed over their final resting places, suspended on belts that would, after all was said and done, lower them into the waiting silence and darkness of the earth. The bugler played 'Last Post', and every officer on parade stood at rigid attention.

There was a pause as the bugle ceased, then the silence was shattered by the crack of seven rifles firing as one. A pause, another volley, a pause, and the final volley cracked and died away as a distant echo.

As she watched, Nick's lips moved, issuing terse commands too quiet and distant for her to hear. One fold at a time, twelve times over, the flag lifted from Ramsay's casket was wrapped up until it became a tightly cinched triangle. It was laid in Nick's paws, and with a final word of command he dismissed the bearer party, leaving him alone, standing before the grave of his fallen comrade and friend. Judy watched as he turned, the folded flag clutched reverently between his gloved paws, and marched slowly toward the front row of seats that held the grieving families.

Four other officers did the same, standing before chosen family members – son, daughter, husband, wife – to present the folded flag that had been their loved one's pall. Judy's breath caught in her throat and she bit her lip, forcing herself to remain still and silent, to hold back the pain and grief that she felt for him as Nick stopped in front of a young, beautiful, fawn coloured puma with black tipped ears. Ramsay had been engaged, this she knew, but only now did she realize the truth – that Ramsay, like her, had fallen in love with a predator. Like her, he had found acceptance, companionship, understanding, and love in the arms of his so-called natural enemy.

Judy saw shimmering drops glint in the morning sun, falling onto the flag as Nick knelt down. She saw the trembling of his paws as he placed the flag into the paws of Ramsay's grief stricken fiancee. She saw his lips move as he said gentle words to her, words that no doubt spoke of the bond he shared with the bighorn ram, now lost to both of them forever.

Others saw Nick stand and deliver a sharp salute, turn and march away, but only Judy saw his heart breaking. Every fiber of her being wanted to run to him, to embrace him and soothe the deep ache of his soul, but that would have to wait. She stood rigidly at attention, tears stinging her eyes that she couldn't move to brush away, and watched Nick march off to take his place among the ranks.

“ _Parade!_ ” boomed the Sergeant Major, “Stand aaaaaat – _ease!”_

Another crack sounded as every paw and hoof on parade moved as one, an outward display of the discipline and unity that was their well of strength in times like these.

“Stand easy!”

A rustle went through the ranks as he officers relaxed slightly, all eyes fixed on the Chaplain as he ascended the small stage placed behind the five coffins. An elderly badger, he was dressed in a simple black suit and tie, his white scarf sash, bearing the insignia of the ZPD, draped over his shoulders. His grizzled salt and pepper fur framed bright blue eyes, which scanned the amassed mammals before him for a moment before he fished a pair of reading glasses from his pocket and set them on his nose. He gripped the edges of the podium, heaving a deep sigh before he began, his voice gravelly, rough edged, yet resonant.

“Dearly beloved, family and friends, officers...” he said, speaking slowly, with reverent care for the raw, seething flood of grief arrayed before him, “It is with heavy laden hearts that we gather here today to honor the lives, the courage, and the sacrifice of our fallen brothers and sisters who so selflessly gave their lives in service to our great city.”

A soft breeze wafted over them in the brief pause, sending a shiver up Judy's back as the awful reality of the day finally broke its way into her mind. This was all because of her and Nick. Not that it was their fault or their responsibility; she was wise enough not to indulge in foolish self reproach, as if they could possibly have foreseen or prevented it, but the fact remained that Laughing Jack Hargrieve had murdered five good police officers just to get at them, just to make them suffer. He had murdered something else that day; to know that such unrepentant, senseless, cruel malevolence existed in the world had shattered her last innocent illusion. She finally understood the deep darkness that Eli had spoken of, the ugliness that made it a challenge for him to put on the badge and face it each day.

“The Scriptures tell us that, 'greater love hath no one than this; that he lay down his life for his friends,'” the Chaplain continued, “Truly these five officers, Jon Swift, Dan Ramsay, Andrew Chillton, Irene Fleetwood, and Richard Muskgrave, a cheetah, bighorn, polar bear, whitetail deer and musk ox respectively, have provided us irrefutable proof of this by their noble sacrifice. On the day when evil threatened the innocent mammals of this city, these officers, predator and prey alike, stood as the thin blue line between order and chaos, and laid down their lives in a final act of love. When we remember the lives of these officers, let us not think of the despicable act that took them from us, but rather let us remember the honor, the devotion, and the unfailing love which exemplified their lives.”

N o further words registered with Judy; tears streamed down her face, her body wracked with deep, quiet sobs. It was all she could do to maintain her bearing enough to stand in the ranks. As the service continued, she was lost in deep soul searching. Standing there, confronted with the ultimate cost of duty, the awful reality that some day she might be the one handing a folded, tear stained flag to Victoria Wilde, she questioned all she had believed. Could she truly bear the great weight of the shield hung  over her heart? Knowing that she, or worse, the  animal she loved more than any other in the world, might be called upon to make this same sacrifice one day, could she still wake up tomorrow and stand guard on the thin blue line?

As the parade snapped to attention at the end of the service and the mournful sound of the pipes and drums thrummed to life, a still, small voice from deep within her heart spoke the answer to her question:  _s_ _he could do nothing else._

The world had always been broken, she knew this now more than ever, but she would never,  _ever_ stop trying to set it right. She would give every last drop of her blood, if need be, to stand in the gap against monsters like “ Laughing Jack.” She was enveloped in a feeling of warmth as she realized that Nick would be standing in that gap beside her, facing the demons along with her.

When all was finished and quiet descended over the gravestones again, she found him standing before the mound of freshly laid earth that marked Ramsay's final resting place. She had told the others to go on ahead to the pub, that she and Nick would catch up a bit later. She moved to his side, slipping her paw into his and resting her head against his arm. He was very still and quiet, a squeeze of her paw his only response to her arrival.

“The night you were shot, Ramsay came with Bogo to the hospital,” she said at length, her voice hushed, “He mentioned being in your class at the Academy, that we should all go for beers sometime...I never realized how close you were.”

Glancing down at her, Nick gave a faint nod; she could tell he was working hard to keep mastery of his emotions. “Ramsay was the first friend I made there...we hit it off right away. We just seemed to understand each other on some deeper level. He was the only animal there who accepted me instantly, without reservation. It was only toward the end of training that I found out why.”

She squeezed his paw tighter, giving his arm a nuzzle in hopes of offering some measure of comfort. “I'm so sorry, Nick,” she said, her eyes drifting over the carved headstone and fresh earth of Ramsay's grave, “I know how hard it is to find true friends.”

Nick heaved a shuddering sigh, rubbing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath before he spoke again. “Carrots...do you believe things happen for a reason?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the city skyline on the far side of the bay,  his voice low and contemplative .

She nodded, looking up at him, “Yeah...I  think it must be true...just look what happened with you and me.” A faint smile curled her lips as the memory of their first meeting came back to her. How different her life would be now if she had never met him; it almost hurt to think of it.

“Yeah...” he said slowly, as if mulling over his words as he spoke them, “I'm starting to think so too. I never thought I'd come back here, but here I am, and with you, no less.”

She perked a brow, “Back here?”

“Come with me, Carrots,” he said finally, turning from Ramsay's grave and tugging her along with him, “There's something I need to do.”

He led her through the  cemetery toward a small hillock  at the back, a large oak tree growing from the top of it.  Paw in paw , they walked up the  winding  gravel path, past row on row of silent stones, to the base of the tree, where one headstone stood in its shadow. Nick stopped in front of it, staring for a long momen t.

It was a simple granite marker with a wide, rough-hewn base and a round-topped rectangular slab. A bass relief toward the top of the stone depicted a set of balance scales within an oval, and beneath that the inscription:

 

Alexander Wilde

1st August 1950 ~ 7th July 1992

Husband, Father, Friend

“ **The one thing that doesn’t abide** **b** **y**

**majority rule is a** **n animal's** **conscience.”**

 

Judy squeezed Nick's paw tighter, moving closer to his side. The enormity of the moment began to dawn on her, and she wondered just how long it had been since Nick had stood before his father's grave.

Slowly, Nick removed his forage cap and knelt in the grass in front of the stone, a wistful smile curling its way along his muzzle. He puffed a soft sigh, his paws resting on his knees. “Hey dad...I never thought I'd come back here. I didn't plan it, to be honest...but here I am,” he said, his voice low and measured, “I miss you a lot...but I never felt like I deserved to come back here. Not until now...”

Judy stepped forward, placing her paw reassuringly over Nick's shoulder. With the other, she removed her forage cap, letting it hang by her side; she was treading on sacred ground, entering a deep, long hidden place within Nick's heart that nobody, not even he himself, had entered since his father's death.

“For so long, I felt like I failed you...like I didn't measure up to your example. I know you would never have felt that way, but I did,” he continued, letting his eyes slip closed, “I was a disgrace to your memory. But now, I finally feel like I've earned my way back. I finally feel like I'm a fox you could be proud of. And I'd like you to meet the lady responsible for all that...Dad, this is my girlfriend, Judy.”

As he spoke her name, he slipped his paw over hers, gently enveloping it in his grip. He turned his gaze to her with adoration in his emerald eyes, his smile broadening as she looked back.

Judy gave a nod, “Hello, sir...I wish I could really have met you. Nick's an amazing cop, and I know you'd be really proud of him.”

Nick blinked, rubbing his eyes with the back of his paw. When he spoke, his voice was faintly breaking with emotion. “I love you, dad...thanks for everything you taught me. Thanks for always fighting for the right, even when you knew you were beaten before you started. I'm going to live the rest of my life in a way that would make you proud of me.”

“I know it,” Judy said, “I don't doubt that for one second, Nick.”

He sighed, standing up and replacing his forage cap. He turned to Judy with a wistful, faintly pained smile, and she responded to his inmost need by wrapping her arms around him and nuzzling against his chest. He cradled her head, bowing his muzzle to let his nose pad hover just above the base of her ears, his other arm wrapped around her shoulders. He held her in silence for a long while, letting the morning breeze wash over them and ruffle their fur.

“Thanks for walking this road with me, Carrots,” he said, his paw gently stroking the fur at the back of her head.

“I would walk through Hell and back with you, Nick,” she replied, her voice hushed but resolute.

He smiled broadly in spite of himself, planting a soft kiss between her ears, his voice taking on the same cooing tone he'd used with her under the bridge that day a year ago, “I know you would...such a tough bunny. Probably kick the Devil right in the nuts for me too, wouldn't you?”

She couldn't help but break out in a chuckle, looking up at him with an attempt at disapproval, though she felt that adoration must be all that showed. “ _Nick!_ ” she said with a faint smirk, “Come on, be serious.”

He shook his head with another sigh. “Naw, today has been serious enough, Carrots,” he said with a wistful smile, “I think my friend Dan would have really wanted us to go down to McGuffin's and tip a pint or two in his honor with everyone. A couple more for my dad, I think.”

“I'll drink to that,” she said with a nod, “And at least one more in _your_ honor, Officer Wilde.”

“Well now, it seems we've got a lot of drinking ahead of us. Best we get started, my dear,” he replied, slipping his arm around her back and leading her away.

-~x0x~-

Lilting, melodious, if somewhat subdued music wafted from within McGuffin's as Nick and Judy stepped inside; Nick's paw rested with a gentle touch in the small of her back as he held the door and guided her through. The pub was packed with law enforcement officers in ceremonial uniforms, having been reserved for the reception that followed the funerals. They exchanged polite greetings with several of the officers they knew as they moved through the crowd, finally catching sight of Wolfram as he raised his lanky arm and waved to them.

Wolfram and Mundi were sitting in one side of a booth against the wall of the pub, situated under a tall, latticed window. They had left the other side open for Nick and Judy, who sat down at Wolfram's invitation. Both investigators wore their dress uniforms, their forage caps set on the table under the window. Being a ranked officer, Mundi's forage cap brim was adorned with gold oak leaves and his lanyard was more ornate than Wolfram's. They were already half way through their rye and gingers when Nick and Judy arrived.

“You need a drink, my friend,” Wolfram said to Nick. He waved over a server who was passing by before adding, “I'm sorry about Dan...I heard you two were close. You gave him a hell of a fine send off – well done.”

“It's a sorry day for all of us, Eli,” Nick said, looking weary, “But yeah, he was a really good friend. I'm gonna miss him.” It was comforting, somehow, to know that Eli understood exactly what he was going through; there would be no banal, but well meaning platitudes from the detective, just the empathy of a friend who had lived the same experience. Nick felt Judy's paw slip into the small of his back, stroking up and down a few times, a gesture that brought a faint, but irrepressible smile to his muzzle.

The server, the same white tail they had met the last time they were at the pub, approached and stood at the edge of the table, setting down a pair of coasters in front of Nick and Judy. “What can I get you?” she asked.

“I'll have a Fox's Fiddle Ale, and for the lady...” Nick said, looking up at her. He turned to Judy, about to suggest a Bunnyburrow Shandy, when she piped up.

“Make that two,” Judy said, gazing at Nick briefly, “I've developed a taste for it.”

The server bowed politely and headed off to the bar, leaving them to their conversation. She returned a short while later and placed two tall, frothy pint mugs filled with the rich, red hued ale in front of Nick and Judy.

Wolfram raised his glass, the others following suit. “To fallen comrades,” he said, his voice sombre.

“Fallen comrades,” they echoed, tapping their glasses on the table before taking a drink.

“If you don't mind me saying, Eli,” Nick said setting his ale down after a long swig, “You look worn out. Are you all right?”

Wolfram polished off the rest of his rye, setting the empty glass on the table. He breathed a sigh, flashing a half smile. “I'll live,” he said, leaning back in his seat, his paw resting on the table beside his glass, “The prosecutor's office accepted all charges on Hargrieve – Five counts of first degree murder, including Hawthorne and Graves, several counts of attempted murder of a police officer, weapons smuggling, conspiracy, racketeering, just to name a few. All the work will pay off when we convict the bastard – the DA's going to seek the death penalty. Thanks to you two, it's a pretty air tight case.”

“That's a fact,” Mundi said, piping up with a grin, “Excellent police work from both of you, not to mention the severe ass kicking you gave Hargrieve and his goons. Bogo wasn't sure whether to chew you two out for being so reckless or give you both medals.”

“You'll forgive me if it's hard to feel like a hero today...” Nick said, his eyes downcast, his index finger tapping his glass a couple of times before he took another drink.

“ _Hey,_ ” Wolfram said sharply, staring resolutely at Nick, “It's a shit deal; I get it – _you know that_. The fact remains, if it wasn't for the two of you, there would have been a lot more funerals. You get me?”

Nick sighed quietly, giving a nod in reply.

“So Higgins will be okay?” Judy asked, a hopeful expression crossing her face.

Mundi nodded, “He'll pull through. He had to have major reconstructive surgery to fix the shrapnel damage to his face, but in the end, that tough hippo hide saved him from a much worse fate than a few surgeries.”

“Thank goodness!” Judy said.

“Besides, all that,” Wolfram added, his grim expression breaking into a faint smile, “I'd be surprised if the word isn't out on the street about you two. Criminals in this city might just think twice before risking coming up against Hopps and Wilde.”

“I'm not so sure about that, Eli,” Judy said, her paw resting on Nick's arm, her amethyst gaze turned to Wolfram, “It seems like there's no end to it sometimes.”

“Then we just keep putting on the shield and going out there, no matter what,” he said, casting a look and a smile at her, “You reminded me of that, Judy. Thanks.” He stretched, standing and lifting his forage cap from the table. “I need a smoke, and then we should get back to the office. Whadda ya say, Mundi?” he said, casting a glance at his partner.

“Yep, those papers won't work themselves...believe me, I've been trying for years to make it happen,” Mundi replied with a resigned shrug.

“If you two ever need help with anything, don't be strangers, all right?” Wolfram said, turning his gaze back to Nick and Judy.

“Don't you be a stranger,” Judy said with a warm smile, “Come out for beers some time with us – no shop talk or office calls, just hanging out.”

Wolfram's smile broadened at that and he gave a nod. Turning, he tucked his forage cap under his arm and headed for the door, with Mundi falling in step beside him.

-~x0x~-

 

On a hazy Sunday afternoon several weeks later, summer had begun in earnest and Nick and Judy were stuck in the too-hot office working on the case files that had been piling up on their desks from the start of the week. Fortunately, it was a quiet day for calls, leaving them the chance to catch up. The staccato clicking of their keyboards filled the air, mingling with the low drone and periodic creaking of the old steel desk fan mounted on the credenza opposite them. They hadn't spoken a word to each other in hours, yet the mutual feeling of connection between them never departed, such that when Chief Bogo unexpectedly knocked on the wall of Nick's cubicle, Judy automatically glanced over to see what was up.

The Chief had a perturbed look on his face, as he often did, but what he said surprised them both. “There's a call for you, Wilde,” he began, casting a brief glance at Judy before continuing, “From the Warden at Stonegate Prison.”

Judy and Nick glanced at each other incredulously, communicating volumes in the wordless way only possible between those who share an intimate bond. Judy was concerned; Nick was curious.

“Why would the Warden want to talk with me?” Nick asked, turning his attention back to the Chief.

“It's about Hargrieve,” Bogo said, then quickly added, “You are absolutely _not_ obligated to respond, but his execution is scheduled for Wednesday and apparently his last request is to speak to you in person.”

Nick furrowed his brow, looking pensive for a moment. At length, he nodded, “Okay, could you have the call transferred to my line? Three-six-seven-seven.”

Bogo stared hard at the fox, not budging for the moment. “Are you _sure,_ Wilde?” he asked, the concern evident in his voice.

Nick nodded, “Yes, sir. It gets me out of this paperwork, after all. Would be nice to go for a drive on such a lovely afternoon.”

Bogo sneered, “Cute, Wilde. Very cute.” He turned on his heel and trudged back to his office. “Take Hopps with you,” he called over his shoulder, not bothering to stop or turn around. The slamming of his office door concluded the matter rather succinctly.

The span of half an hour found them parked outside the gates of the prison. Judy switched off the cruiser and looked across at her partner. Concern was graven deeply into her features, and she reached across to touch Nick's arm, “You don't have to do this...it isn't too late to refuse.”

He shook his head and put on a nonchalant smile, “Don't sweat it, Carrots. I won't be long. Wouldn't be proper to deny someone their last request, I guess...”

“Want me to go with you?”

“Not a chance...I'd prefer you never had to lay eyes on that scumbag again,” Nick replied. Without another word, he opened the door and stepped out, setting his forage cap on his head and striding toward the entrance.

The correctional officers led him to a small room attached to the main cell block which had rows of booths arranged on either side of bullet proof glass. Each booth had a telephone handset allowing the prisoners to speak to their visitors. The room was deserted as they led him to a booth near the middle. He nodded and thanked the officers, taking a seat and setting his cap down on the table.

There was a clanking sound from the opposite side of the barrier as the door to the cell block opened. A few moments later, Hargrieve was led to the booth opposite Nick and roughly placed into his seat by the two burly rhino officers guarding him. He was dressed in an orange jump suit with his prisoner number embroidered on the chest, and was bound in a belly chain, wrist and leg irons. He wore a reinforced polymer muzzle with small holes for air flow – apparently the wire mesh kind left too much possibility of digits and ears getting within biting range of Laughing Jack's jaws. The guards unfastened one of the wrist cuffs to permit Jack to use the handset.

They stared at each other for a moment; the muzzle completely hid Jack's typical maniacal grin, which was a blessing, but unfortunately it accentuated the seething malice in his eyes. They both picked up their phones.

Jack was the first to speak. “Nicky! So good of you to come. It warms my heart,” he said, the plastic muzzle making his voice sound more hollow, guttural and unnatural than ever.

“The pleasure is entirely _yours_ , I assure you,” Nick said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What do you want?”

“Just to see my oldest and dearest pal Nick before I face the chair...tell me, how is that charming little morsel of yours, Judith, doing? Has she recovered from that nasty wound I gave her during the... _recent unpleasantness?_ ”

“We're not here to talk about her, Jack,” Nick said flatly, his face remaining placid despite the protective rage that flared inside him at hearing the monster mention Judy, “I came here because it was your last request, but I never promised to stay and listen to your crap for any length of time.”

“Such a decent guy you are, Nick...” Jack said, punctuating his comment with a brief spasm of his characteristic grotesque mockery of laughter. “Or is it just that you couldn't miss a chance to see me in chains? To see your enemy crushed and languishing on death row? _You can't fool me, Nick_...I know you...I know what you really are under that starched uniform, behind that shiny little badge...”

“You know _nothing_ , Jack,” Nick retorted, his lip curling in a snarl.

More hollow, unearthly laughter. His teeth didn't show, but his eyes proved that Jack was grinning ear to ear under the mask, “You think not? I bet you really came here because you're curious...you want to know _why_.”

“It's crossed my mind, I'll admit. You went to an awful lot of trouble just to douse the city in proverbial gasoline and toss in a match...” Nick said, staring hard into Jack's crimson gaze.

“That's always your mistake, Nicky,” Jack said, tilting his head slightly, “The very fact that you ask such a question at all implies there is some order in reality, some meaning behind the seething maelstrom of chaos. You of all mammals should know, if you _must_ ask a question, you should be asking, _why not?_ ”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“ _Don't you get it?_ Didn't your father's sad story teach you _anything?_ ” Jack asked, stifling a giggle.

Nick's lip curled into a sneer, but he said nothing.

“Oh yes, that's right, I've done my homework on you, Nicky. Your dear old dad was a paragon of virtue...loved by all who knew him, uncompromising in his moral code, yet compassionate and forgiving of those who hated him for no cause at all, without even _knowing_ him...but where is he now?” Jack said, sitting back in his chair and gesturing in the air with his free paw, a glint of malevolent glee in his crimson gaze.

“What became of this great pillar of the community?” Jack continued, leaning forward and staring hard at Nick, “You know better than anyone, Nicky...he died a miserable, agonizing death in squalor and obscurity, leaving his wife and son destitute and alone. His so called code, his ideals, his selfless aspirations, this supposed utopia we're all trapped in? _MEANINGLESS!_ It's all a worthless vapor; I just want to expose it for what it really is. Well, that and it's just a hell of a lot of fun destroying things and torturing and killing animals.”

“And yet I'm out here, and you're in there...my father's beliefs seem to have served me just fine,” Nick said with a sneer.

“That's only because nobody has ever pushed hard enough on the rotten edifice of your pitiful little paradigm...” Jack said, poking the glass barrier with his index finger, “I almost did it that one time...I almost pushed you over the edge, but you stepped back. I'll do it one day, Nick...I'll strike deep enough to penetrate that...heehee...glowing moral armour of yours, and when I do, you'll shatter like the hollow porcelain doll you are. You know I'll get out, Nicky... _things happen_.”

“The only thing that's going to happen is the judicial system is going to finish what I started on that rooftop,” Nick said with a low growl.

“I'll get out, Nick...hee hee hee...you _know_ I'll find a way, and when I do, I'm going to hunt down that sweet little bunny girlfriend of yours, and I'm gonna _peel her like an overripe fruit_ ,” he snarled, little strings of saliva escaping the bottom holes of his muzzle. “And when you see her die,” he said in a guttural whisper, leaning so close to the divider that the fog of his breaths spread over the surface, “It will _break you_ , and you will join me in the void, and then you will finally be _free._ ”

Nick closed his eyes for a moment, heaving a faint sigh. Slowly, a smile curled his lips and he stared directly into Jack's malicious gaze. “I have to thank you,” he said, his voice calm and measured, his self assured smile never fading.

Jack narrowed his eyes; he was surprised by the subdued response to his threats. “And why is that, pray tell?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

“Because lately – and this is going to sound _so crazy_ _–_ but lately I've found myself wondering what happened to make you into what you are. I wondered because I had this little fear in my mind that you were right, that maybe I could have _become you_ if things had gotten bad enough for me. I even pulled your file from the Ministry of Child Protection to try to figure out what happened to screw you up so badly.”

Jack burst into another fit of laughter, his shoulders shaking. “I'm so touched, Nicky!” he said with a snarl, “Did you discover the key to my salvation by studying my troubled childhood? Did seeing my little...hehehe... _drawings_...give you the means to understand my scarred psyche and heal my troubled mind?”

“Heh, no. In fact, that and our having this little chat has convinced me once and for all that there is no reason for you, no trauma that can be healed, no wrong that can be atoned for. You can't be fixed because you were never broken – you're just an abomination, a rabid beast that needs to be put down. Thanks for that,” Nick said, donning his forage cap, “Now, I'm going to go home and make out with my sweet little bunny girlfriend, and you, sir, are going to go back to rotting in your little cell until they strap you to the chair on Wednesday morning and fry you like a fish fillet. Do enjoy that, won't you?”

With that, Nick stood, hung up the receiver and bowed mockingly, turning on his heel. He was half way to the door when he heard a loud bang and spun around to see Jack standing with his fist pressed against the glass.

“ _I'LL SEE YOU IN HELL, NICK!_ ” he roared, his voice so loud it easily penetrated the barrier and echoed off the concrete walls. The sound of his hysterical laughter filled the room as the two guards dragged him away, slamming the steel door behind him.

Nick stared at the empty chairs for a moment before a smile crept slowly across his muzzle, “I've been through Hell already...and I've got a little bit of Heaven waiting for me outside.”

He turned to depart, but a thought occurred to him suddenly, and he pulled out his phone, dialing Judy's number. “Hey Carrots,” he said when she answered, “Sorry to make you wait longer, but there's one more thing I've got to do.”

“Is everything okay?” she asked, her concern evident in her voice, “You sure you don't need me to come in?”

“Everything's fine,” he said with a smile, “I won't be too long.”

“Okay,” she said, sounding relieved, “How about I swing by Snarlbucks and grab us some coffee?”

“That's my Carrots,” he said with a faint chuckle, “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” she said, and hung up.

He poked his head out into the hall, exchanging a few brief words with the Sergeant, who nodded and turned to depart. Nick ducked back into the room and resumed his seat at the visitation booth, leaning back in the chair and stroking his muzzle thoughtfully with his index finger. Eyes closed, he mused over what he would say, sitting in silence for several minutes before the clank of the cell block door opening roused him from his thoughts.

He watched with a bemused half smile as a very familiar pair of eartips showed themselves above the edge of the counter on the other side of the divider glass. They dipped out of sight for a brief moment before showing themselves again inch by inch as the guard pumped up the chair to the proper height for a fennec fox. At last, Finnick sat staring with wide eyes through the partition, his lips slightly parted as if he was about to say something, but couldn't form words.

Nick picked up the handset, and taking the cue, Finnick did the same.

“Hey buddy,” Nick said, his tone relaxed, “How you holdin' up?”

“Been better...” Finnick began, furrowing his brow, as if taken aback by Nick's nonchalant manner. There was a long pause before he said, “I...I never expected what you did for me at sentencing...”

“I just told the truth, Fin,” Nick said, “I'm proud of you for facing the music when the time came. I told them what I believed about you, what I still believe – that you're nothing like Jack and his crew, and that even though you got in over your head, when it came down to brass tacks you did the right thing.”

“I wrecked everything, didn't I?” Finnick said, his husky baritone cracking as he spoke, “I'm...”

“I forgive you, Fin,” Nick interjected, his voice low.

Stunned silence was the reply. Finnick looked like he might drop the receiver.

“Prison doesn't have to be the end,” Nick continued, a faint smile on his muzzle, “You could consider it a new beginning.”

“How do you figure?” Finnick said, “I've lost everything...well, except you, it turns out.” The fennec managed a faint smile at that. “That's something,” he added.

“You know, there's something you might not have thought of,” Nick said, “Glass half full – your limo company is now yours, free and clear, since Jack is on death row and the Blood Fangs no longer exist. You'll probably get out inside of a year for good behaviour, then it's all yours. In the mean time, I called up our old friend Honey. You remember her?”

“Yeah...” Finnick said, regarding Nick with a bewildered expression, “I touch base with her now and then...what about her?”

“Well, I told her about what went down, and she said she'd be willing to drive your limo for you till you get out,” Nick said, flashing a grin, “Your first employee! Get busted, expand your business, who knew?” He chuckled briefly, then added, “I'll make sure the Sergeant provides you with her number during your next turn at the phones. It's your decision, I didn't presume to tell Honey it was a done deal or anything, just asked if she'd consider it.”

Finnick was stunned into silence. He merely stared through the glass, holding the receiver up to his ear. Finally, he managed to form words, his voice low and broken with emotion. “Nick...thank you,” he said, “You're a better mammal than I could ever be...”

“Naw, I'm just a taller mammal than you could ever be,” Nick replied with a wry smirk, “You can be as good and honest a mammal as you want. That's the truth.” His smirk faded into a warm, genuine smile before he added, “Judy's waiting, I gotta run. Take care, okay, Fin?”

“Take care, bro,” Finnick said. He hung up the receiver, then stood in his chair and leaned forward, pressing his tiny fist against the glass. Nick pressed his own fist against the spot for a moment, giving a nod before he turned and departed, shutting the steel door behind him.


	24. Epilogue

“So, how you holdin' up, Carrots?”

Judy perked a brow and shot a quizzical look at Nick as they rolled out of the motorcade for their morning patrol and cruised off down the street. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“Still enjoying living with Fangmeyer?” he asked with a smile, “It's been, what, a month now since you graduated from house guest to roomie? It was just after I visited Fin, wasn't it?”

Judy chuckled in response, her face lighting up with a grin. “It's been great!” she said, “We get along so well and we were having so much fun we didn't want it to end. It's definitely a step up from the Grand Pangolin Arms, that's for sure.”

“Ugh, even my boiler room is a step up from that place – no offense, Carrots,” Nick said, a sneer of disgust curling his lip for a moment, “I'm really glad you're out of there.”

“It was really sweet of you to help me move, by the way...” she said as the memory of him walking her out for the last time came to mind. He had her suitcase in his left paw, his other wrapped around her paw and a proud smile on his muzzle. It was just one of the many hundreds of little ways he showed how deeply he adored her, and it never failed to make her smile.

“Ehh, it was literally one suitcase, Carrots...that hardly counts as helping you move,” he said dismissively, taking a sip of his coffee.

“It is what it is,” came her coy reply.

There was a brief, comfortable silence before Nick spoke again.

“Ever been to the symphony?” he asked between sips of his coffee, his gaze fixed on the scenery outside his window.

Taken aback by his question, she looked across the cruiser at him with a perk of her brow. “Nope, can't say as I have...” she said, a mildly bemused smile curling her lips, “Have you?”

“Once,” he said, casting a sidelong glance at her, “Since the end of my probation is coming up, I was thinking I'd really like to take you out to celebrate the fact that you can't call me 'Probie' anymore. I'd like to take you to the Nocturnal Symphony this Friday, if you're interested.”

Her ears perked up at once and a broad grin overtook her muzzle, “Wow, that would be amazing...I hear it's world famous!”

He looked over at her, smiling wryly, “It is. Very classy – you'll have to wear a formal evening gown. I was thinking we'd attend the symphony, and then enjoy dinner for two afterward. You in?”

“Are you kidding me?” she said, “Of course I am, you dumb fox!”

He chuckled softly in reply, taking another sip. “Pick you up at six on Friday,” he said at length. That concluded the matter, and their conversation turned to the day's assignments.

-~x0x~-

On Friday evening, Judy was buzzing with excitement as she put the finishing touches on her ensemble. She had chosen an elegant plum coloured chiffon evening gown with a floor length skirt and a single strap that crossed over her left shoulder in a soft ruffle, leaving the other shoulder bare. A wide, intricately wrought band of silver beading in a floral motif rested just above her hips, nicely delineating the bodice from the flowing skirt below. She sat on a stool in front of the full length mirror in her room as Fangmeyer deftly completed the subtle application of eye shadow to compliment her soft pink lipstick and nail polish.

“You are the best roommate ever, Jude,” Fangmeyer said, biting her lip softly as she concentrated on getting the makeup just right, “Like my personal dress up doll.”

Judy laughed, which fortunately Fangmeyer had anticipated and pulled her paw back so as not to smudge the makeup.

“You're looking pretty dolled-up yourself, this evening, Lucy,” Judy said, “Got a date of your own?” In contrast to the tee shirt and sweats the tigress favoured for lounging around the apartment, she was dressed in a mid length black skirt and a flattering white blouse, the top two buttons left unfastened to offer a glimpse of the white ruff of fur at the base of her neck and show off a pretty gold necklace she had chosen to match her gold hoop earrings.

“In a manner of speaking,” Fangmeyer said with a mischievous smile, “Going for coffee with the Chief.”

Wide eyed, Judy let out a gasp. “You made your move?” she said, “ _You actually asked him out?!_ ”

“Not exactly,” Fangmeyer replied, finishing up Judy's makeup and sitting back on her chair, “I still don't think it would be wise to start a romantic relationship with my boss, but after our brush with death at the port, I felt like I needed to let him know how big an impact he made in my life. I just wanted to thank him properly for turning me around like he did, you know? I doubt anything more will come of it, but if it does...well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it I guess.”

“Awww, that's so sweet, Lucy,” Judy said, folding her paws in her lap and regarding her friend with a warm smile, “I get the feeling the Chief doesn't get a lot of expressions of appreciation like that.”

Their conversation was interrupted by three sharp knocks at the apartment door. Judy jumped in her seat, her ears shooting straight up.

“Oh! That must be Nick! Do I look okay?!” Judy asked, casting a panicked look at Fangmeyer.

The tigress chuckled in response, rising from her chair, “Relax, Jude, you look fabulous. Nick's going to melt when he sees you.” She grinned and gave a nod in the direction of the hallway, “Go on, fly to your prince charming.”

Judy bounded into the hall and rushed to the door. She paused before opening it, smoothing over her gown and taking a deep breath. At last, she reached out and grasped the knob, opening up the door.

Nick stood before her immaculately attired in crisp, perfectly executed white tie and tails. His brilliant white crepe bow tie was perfectly knotted around a high stand collar, his inky black tailcoat with its elegantly rolled satin faced peaked lapels framed the stark white expanse of his shirt and the shawl lapel of his three button vest. He wore spotless white gloves, and each sleeve showed a half inch of double cuffs fastened with mother of pearl cufflinks. Elegant four pleat trousers with a double satin stripe down each side draped to his carefully groomed footpaws. Even the claws of his toes were filed and polished with care. The entire ensemble was completed by a vibrant red carnation pinned to his left lapel.

When he caught sight of her, a broad smile of unabashed adoration spread across Nick's muzzle and he stared at her in silence. She too found herself in awe of him, feeling a warm blush rising in her ears as she gawked. It was hard for her to imagine he could have outdone the green suit he wore to Bunnyburrow, but he looked absolutely stunning.

“You are _gorgeous,_ ” Nick managed to say at last, his voice a reverent whisper. He bowed and tenderly lifted her chin with a finger, planting a soft, chaste kiss on her lips as a sign of his admiration.

She smiled, clasping her paws behind her back. “Me? Pffft!” she said, looking him up and down with a broad grin, “Look at _you!_ Now, there's no way Nick 'tropical shirt' Wilde pulled this off without help...”

“Guilty as charged,” he said with a demure smile, “I asked Eli to introduce me to his tailor.” He extended his elbow to her like a true gentlemammal before adding, “Shall we, then?”

“Take me away, Mister Wilde,” she said, beaming up at him as she slipped her paw around his arm.

Arm in arm, they walked out to the curb in front of the building where Nick's car was parked and waiting. He opened the passenger door for her, guiding her into her seat and shutting it once she was inside.

As they pulled away into the waning light of the early summer evening, the breeze blowing through her fur and the throaty purr of the engine filling her head, Judy felt a profound sense of freedom wash over her. Aside from the ordinary dangers their work entailed, there was no menace hanging over them, no implacable foe bent on their destruction, nor was there any workplace policy oppressing them, forcing them to hide their relationship from their colleagues. She was free to love Nick completely and openly, as she longed to. She wasn't naive enough to think there wouldn't be the occasional sneer or rude comment from those who disapproved of their relationship, but such things were trifles compared with everything they had already come through together.

The drive to the Vertiferry was occupied with their usual cheerful banter, but as Nick paid the operator and drove into the cage, a buzzing excitement overtook Judy and she grinned up at him.

“I've been wanting to come back to the Nocturnal District with you since the last time, you know,” she said, instinctively folding back her ears as they were enveloped in the darkness of the descent, “It's so romantic and beautiful down here...”

“Well,” he said, leaning a little closer to her in the blackness, “I've been looking forward to tonight for a long time too. It's a momentous occasion – I feel a little nervous.”

She reached out to caress his cheek affectionately in the dark, feeling him nuzzle into her palm slightly at her touch. “It is a big day...no more probation for you” she said, “I'll miss calling you Probie, but I'll be _so glad_ not to have to hide my feelings for you anymore. It was getting pretty difficult...and hey, you have nothing to be nervous about. You're the best cop I know.”

He gave an enigmatic chuckle in reply, as if she had missed something, but he said nothing further.

It was a short drive from the Vertiferry to the district's Grand Opera House, by which time Judy's eyes had adjusted to the dim light. The Opera House was an imposing circular building ringed with columns and arches crowned with decorative friezes depicting various scenes of romance and legend. The entrance was formed by a great portico of gothic arches covering a broad marble staircase that seemed to spill out from the huge double hung doors. The roof was a slightly flattened circular dome crowned with a small cupola with arched windows.

As they passed through the towering black doors, they found themselves in an ornately decorated foyer encrusted with gilt accents. An enormous crystal chandelier hung from the center of a domed ceiling painted with a magnificent night sky, and the circular foyer was ringed with more towering columns whose gilded capitals were wrought in floral carvings. The carpet was thick, rich, red plush trimmed in gold at the edges. Dozens of mammals milled about the lobby in quiet conversation, attired in white tie and evening gowns similar to Nick and Judy's.

Judy was in awe, staring wide eyed at the magnificence of the decoration as Nick led her to the ticket counter to have their tickets punched, then proceeded toward another set of double doors on the far side of the lobby.

An usher, a raccoon in a crimson uniform, read their tickets and bowed politely, opening the doors for them to pass.

In contrast to the majesty of the exterior and the foyer, the concert hall itself was stark and plain. Its outer walls consisted of odd geometric shapes wrought in bland, flat gray. The seating, although luxurious in its comfort and spaciousness, was also very plain. Nick's keen night vision easily made out the look of surprise and confusion on Judy's features in the dim light as she entered.

“This hall was designed for acoustics, not aesthetics,” Nick said, as if reading her thoughts, “I probably should have mentioned, the symphony here is conducted in total darkness.”

Her ears perked and she turned to him as they strode down the aisle together arm in arm, “It's already pretty dark in here, Nick...you mean like absolutely _no light?_ ”

“Absolutely none,” he said with a smile, inviting her to sit down as he found their seats, located in the perfect center of the amphitheater, “Even I won't be able to see my paw in front of my face.”

She settled into her seat, and he took his place in the chair beside her. She folded her paws in her lap, “That's interesting...why is that?”

“By excluding vision, it accentuates the other senses,” Nick said, looking over at her, “Are you going to be okay with that, Carrots? If it bothers you too much, we don't have to stay.”

She replied with a warm smile and a shake of her head, “It's fine. As long as I'm with you, I always feel safe.”

Her words caused a broad smile to spread over his lips just as the lights faded and they were enveloped in total darkness. There was a brief period of silence that became more and more profound as the chatter, whispers and rustling of the audience died away, until there was absolute darkness and stillness in the theatre.

Then the music began. At first, it was the tinkling melody of a single piano some where far in the distance. Soon, a chorus of violins softly joined in, then the cellos, weaving a sensuous, ascending melody. More and more strings joined in, the music rising and flooding the theatre, wrapping them in its majestic spell. When the thundering rhythm of the bass drum began, she reached for him.

He had removed his glove in anticipation of it; his upturned palm, laid on the armrest of his chair, awaited hers. By instinct her fingers intertwined with his, and in the pitch darkness, her touch was like a spark. A gasp escaped her lips as the tempo increased and the horns joined in.

He felt her give herself over to the music, letting it wash over and through her. In that same moment, he gave himself over to her. He didn't move, or speak, or touch her beyond the joining of their paws, but he turned his every remaining sense to her. He savoured her scent until it drowned out all others, he relished the sound of her breaths, the rustle of her dress; even the beating of her heart became his music. So keen was his focus on her that he felt her pulse beat from her fingertips to his.

As the music wound its spell over her, he abandoned himself to the spell she wove around him. When at last the final piece of music played and the choir began to sing, standing in the aisles among the audience so that their chanting came from everywhere at once, Judy rose from her seat, her paw still firmly clasping his. Somehow, he sensed her tears, though he couldn't explain exactly how; tears of joy and awe ran down her gray furred cheeks, and even in that relentless darkness, he sensed them, and he shared them. It wasn't the beauty of the music that brought tears to his eyes, it was her beauty, the beauty of her entire being.

When the music died away and the dim lights arose again, she turned to him and threw her arms around his neck. Wordlessly they held each other as uproarious applause filled the theatre. It wasn't until they had walked out under the Gothic arched portico that either of them spoke.

“That...was… _INCREDIBLE!_ ” Judy said, adding a few hops to her stride in her excitement, “Thank you so much, Nick!” She gazed up at him, clutching his arm tightly in both of hers as they strolled together across the street.

“You're incredible,” he said, casting her a sidelong glance and a wry smile.

“Hey, isn't the car back that way?” she asked, looking around as she realized he was leading her off in a different direction.

“Mmmhmmm,” came his laconic reply.

“We're walking to the restaurant then? That's nice,” she said cheerfully, looking delighted by everything around her.

“It's not a restaurant we're going to,” he said.

She perked a brow at him, but said nothing. She had come to expect the unexpected when on a date with Nick Wilde, and so she simply focused on enjoying the exotic sights of the Nocturnal District.

He led her along boulevards and through alleyways, across bridges and along canals, until they arrived at the towering wrought iron gate of a walled park. A mildly disheveled opossum from the city works department was there to open the locked gate for them, and they strolled inside together.

They found themselves in a strange garden of dark dwelling plants. Lining the cobbled pathways were hundreds, perhaps thousands of exotic fungi and algae, many of which were bio-luminescent, casting an eerie, multicoloured glow over the garden. Mushrooms of every strange and wonderful shape surrounded them as they strolled along, some geometric, some cup-like, others having the appearance of being draped in lace. Along with the dazzling array of fungus and mushrooms were mosses of various types, ferns, even strange nettle-like plants with pink flowers, all expertly arranged. The garden had an ethereal, otherworldly beauty that sent shivers up Judy's spine as each twist and turn of the path revealed new wonders.

At last they came to a place where the narrow garden path widened into a circular expanse of cobblestones. In the center of the circle, surrounded by the night garden with its high stone walls and mystical plant life, stood a small round dinner table and chairs, draped in a brilliant white cloth and set for two. There were two covered silver platters laid out, along with two wine glasses, cutlery and napkins. A bottle of red wine stood on the table, along with a single candle lantern that cast a warm, flickering glow and glinted off the polished silver tableware.

“Oh wow, Nick...” Judy breathed as they approached the table, “You've really outdone yourself this time...”

“Well, it's not the boiler room at ZPD, but I try,” he said as he strolled to the table with her, pulling out her chair and letting her sit before taking his own seat. He flashed a roguish, self-assured smile at her across the table, relishing the look of wonder and anticipation on her face.

She lifted the silver cover on her dish and her eyes lit up; the food was piping hot, with wisps of steam escaping into the cool air. Dinner consisted of a serving of escargot paired with herb roasted artichokes and hollandaise. Whoever catered it must have set the food down just moments before they arrived.

“Nick!” she said, setting the cover aside, “Honestly! Are you a wizard?”

He broke into a laugh, setting aside his own cover. “My life as a wandering con artist wasn't entirely wasted, Carrots,” he said, laying his napkin across his lap, “I learned, among other things, that timing is everything.”

She chuckled at that, casting her eyes eagerly over the savoury fare with a broad grin.

“A little wine, my darling?” he asked with a grin, lifting the bottle and uncorking it.

“Naturally,” she said with a demure smile.

He poured a generous helping into her glass, and then into his own, then re-corked the bottle. She found it was a delightfully peppery Shiraz that perfectly complemented the meal. They dug in and the meal passed quickly in lighthearted conversation. When all was finished, he rose and removed his gloves, leaving them on the table and offering her his bare paw.

“Walk with me, Carrots,” he said softly, offering an inviting smile.

She placed her paw in his and they strolled further along the meandering path. It led them upward, winding its way toward the crest of the hill that dominated the center of the garden. As they climbed, the view of the rooftops of the district with its ghostly lights and shimmer of moonglow became more and more impressive.

“Nick, this...this really is amazing,” she said softly, “In my wildest dreams I never could have imagined a more perfect date...”

“It's about to get better,” he said, casting a loving smile and a glance in her direction.

“How is that possible?” she said, looking up at him.

“Wait and see,” he replied, leading her around a bend in the path, and finally up a short flight of stairs to an elevated patio at the crest of the hill.

From the vantage point, they could see to the very edge of the cavern in all directions, and they were offered an unobstructed view of the expanse of the artificial sky above. Judy's eyes were fixed on the skyline of the night city with its shimmering Gothic spires and faintly glowing windows. She stood near the railing, one paw clasped with Nick's, the other laid over her chest.

A brief silence interceded before she felt him move in close behind her, gently wrapping her in his arms, her back pressing against his chest. “You know...” he said, his voice a reverent whisper, “There's a Moondog tonight...”

She gasped and looked up; high above them, shining amid the twinkling of millions of artificial stars, there was a halo of brilliance around the projected moon, just like the night he first asked her out. Her eyes welled up with tears as her paw shot to her mouth. “Oh Nick...” she said, overwhelmed with such a loving, beautiful, grandiose gesture. He must have called in several favours to make that happen.

“A Moondog is a serious omen,” he said, bowing so that his lips faintly brushed her ear as he spoke, “It means something big is going to happen.”

“Oh please, not something bad...” she said, a faint chuckle in her voice, “This night is too perfect...”

“I guess that's for you to decide,” he said. She felt him sink to one knee behind her so that his cheek caressed hers, his chest still pressed firmly against her back. He reached back with one paw and pulled something from his pocket before bringing it back around to her front.

When she looked down, her breath caught in her throat and her eyes went wide at what she saw; he held a small, black velvet box in his paws. Opening it, he revealed an elegant gold ring with a spiral band and a large central diamond flanked by two smaller ones. He removed it from the box, holding it carefully between his fingers.

“Judy Hopps, my partner, my best friend, my inspiration, my joy...” he said, the silken baritone of his quiet words filling her ears, “Will you make my happiness forever complete and do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

She stroked her trembling left paw along his arm until her fingers tenderly played over the back of his knuckles, inviting him to place the ring on her middle finger.

“Will I marry you?” she said, her voice a delicate whisper as he slipped the ring in place, “Yes, yes I will.”

She turned in his embrace and wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingertips sensually tracing up his neck to clasp in the fur at the back of his head. Under the omen of the Moondog, their lips joined in a passionate, tender kiss, both of them enveloped in a powerful feeling that they had finally found their way out of the woods. At last, they were home.

 

THE END


End file.
